Immortality's Gift: The Alternate Version
by Twilight Unicorn
Summary: Parts one through eighteen of ImmGift have remained the same, but it's NOT the same story after that! For one: Faith lives. Look within to see what else is different. Summary of first eighteen parts on 1st page.
1. In Summary

**Title:** Immortality's Gift (_The Alternate Version_)  
**Author:** Twilight Unicorn: The Vampiric Unicorn  
**Beta Reader:** Harry2  
**Rating:** PG13 (_nothing worse than the shows, if that even_)  
**Category:** BtVS/AtS/HL Xover  
**Summary:** Parts 1-18 of ImmGift have remained the same, but it's NOT the same story after that! For one, Faith lives. Starts with a summary of the first eighteen parts.  
**Pairings:** Buffy/Angel, Willow/Tara, and various others as/if they come along.  
**Disclaimer:** (**sighs dejectedly**) I _wish_ I were the creators of Buffy, Angel, or Highlander, but I'm not. None of the characters used are my own on this one.  
**Feedback:** Any and all reviews are welcome.  
**Spoilers:** Buffy and Angel series (up to _BtVS s5 & AtS s2, _and a character or two of_ AtS s5_), as well as general knowledge of Highlander and the Four Horsemen story arc.  
**Timeline:** The end of Buffy's 5th season, and Angel's 2nd season. Nothing else matters.  
**Notations:** _emphasis/other side of a phone call_, _inner-thought_, _"mind-speech"_, and /\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\ means a scene/viewpoint change

Now, on with the show!

**

* * *

**

Previously on _**Immortality's Gift:**_

"Willow?"

Angel stood staring at Willow, his gut twisting with a certainty of something terribly wrong. As Cordelia began to ask "What's...", Willow slowly stood up, keeping eye-contact with Angel the entire time. Her expression was pain-filled and haunted. It was then he understood.

In a whisper, Angel said, "It's Buffy."

After a moment, Willow nodded, and said, her voice trembling, "She needs you."

In a dull and lifeless voice, Angel said, "Somehow I knew. I felt her death in my sleep."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

His attention completely focused upon Buffy, Angel - in a last desperate attempt - said raggedly, "I love you, Buffy. I can't loose you again... Come back to me!"

Buffy's eyes snapped open, as she drew in breath sharply. With unerring certainty, she focused her eyes onto Angel's. For a moment, neither moved.

With a suddenness that not even Angel expected, Buffy flung herself into the souled vampire's arms with a cry of agonized relief

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Do you have an idea why Buffy's still alive, Giles," asked Angel, never taking his eyes off of the Slayer.

Giles leaned forward, studying the supernatural couple before him, before saying firmly, yet quietly, "Yes. I do. I believe she is Immortal."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

_"Yes, hello? Is this, ah, Mr. Dawson?"_

The voice was male, and had a British sound to it, which made Joe's eyebrows go up. At Methos' questioning look, he shrugged, then said, "Yeah, this is Dawson. What can I do for you?"

_"My name is Rupert Giles, and I have a situation here that - I am told - you can help me with. I am in Sunnydale, California, and am in need of finding an Immortal willing to come here."_

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"So, _how_ do you know all this..._stuff_ anyway?" asked Joe, as he and Methos drove towards Sunnydale.

"Because," he said, he voice so quiet, that the Immortal Watcher could barely hear him, "in my life...I have been on both sides of the battle between the Light and Dark."

"When I was a Horseman known as Death, Joe, I was a Warrior for the First Evil. After I left the Horsemen, I wondered around for quite some time, wondering what I was supposed to do with myself...other than just exist. A Messenger for the Powers That Be came to me. From that point on, I was Their Warrior."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Giles sat alone in the magic shop, checking some last-minute orders, when the doorbell rang. He glanced up, thinking it was one of the Scooby Gang coming in to pick up something they might have forgotten, and saw two strangers instead.

The Watcher stood swiftly, and asked, "May I help you?"

The elderly of the two, stepped forward, leaning on a cane, and said in a low and slightly rough voice, "Yeah, are you Rupert Giles?"

Giles pushed up his glasses, and said, "Yes. I am."

A pleased grin split the man's face, as he said, "Pleasure meeting you, then. I'm Joe Dawson."

Joe gestured to the other man, who was looking around the shop with interest, and said, "This is Adam Pierson. He's the Immortal that volunteered to come here."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Angel felt as Buffy pressed herself tightly against him, as she then said, her voice becoming pain-filled, "Don't leave me again, Angel. I need you!"

He felt his heart breaking at her plea. Slowly he pressed his own hand over Buffy's, as he said quietly in promise, "I won't." He then opened his eyes, and turned Buffy's head so that they were face-to-face. "But we will need to do something about my curse, if you are to be with me."

Buffy smiled faintly, and nodded her understanding, before saying, "Willow's gotten pretty powerful, especially with Tara to help her. Maybe they can find a way to fix it."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

**Tara:** _I looked more closely at Dawn's aura, and realized that it was a close second to the other three's. It made me remember what Buffy had said about her and Dawn's blood being the same..._

_Would that make Dawn pre-Immortal then?_

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Slayer," he said, drawing Buffy's attention, "what is your relationship to the girl you hold close to you?"

"She's my sister," came the simple reply.

Methos' eyebrows shot up, as he exclaimed, unable to hide the shock in his voice, "Slayers have _never_ had siblings! How is this possible?"

"Simple," came the reply from the hallway, as a badly dressed man in a fedora hat came into view. "She didn't. Not until half-way through last year. And the way the Powers That Be worked it...she's not even that, but her daughter instead. Yours and Angel's actually. The Powers That Be decided to give you guys a break, and give you a reward for all the stuff you've done. They found a way to do that when those monks made the Key mortal. They took the essences of both of ya, and combined it into one entity: Dawn there."

"Apparently," Whistler continued, "the Powers That Be want you two back together. They don't like what's been happening with you two separate. The whole thing with the Slayer dieing could've been avoided had ya been here. And you, Angel, wouldn't of had your little trip to the dark side recently if the Slayer had been there to give you support, _and_ keep you in line."

"But Angel's soul..."

"Yeah," Whistler said, "I know. That's why _They_ didn't bring you two back together sooner. Ya didn't have the firepower needed to bind his soul then...but you do now."

"Will and Tara," the Slayer whispered, turning her face to the two witches.

"You got that right," Whistler said, looking at them as well.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"W-we b-b-bound h-his s-soul," Tara said, not wanting to give the real answer the Watcher asked for, making her stutter in the process.

Giles gazed at Tara, then said quietly, but firmly, "I can tell that you don't wish to tell us what happened. I can understand that...but we _need_ to know what happened - in detail - concerning Angel."

"When we got to where Angel was in the ether, we saw the Demon and Angel fighting-"

"Huh?" said Cordelia, interrupting Tara. "What do you mean by 'Demon and Angel'? There's just the demon, then the soul."

Tara shook her head, then said in explanation, "No, not with him...he's far more than he seems. Do you ever wonder why as just a vampire his reign was so terrifying? The demon that resides within him is one of the Old Ones- The thing is, is that his soul is the complete opposite of the Demon...it is an Angel. Actually...make that Archangel, because of how powerful he is."

"Some of the normal rules about vampires no longer apply to Angel. Such as the not entering a home without an invite. Since he's clearly chosen which side he'll fight on, They can take that rule away from him. He still can't go out in the sun, but that couldn't be avoided. Basically, he's still a vampire, but not."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Willow asked after a faint pause, "What did you three talk about? You were in there for about an hour."

Dawn slowly smiled, and said, "Oh, the fact that Angel and Buffy have been married since she was seventeen, and what we're going to do about me."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"What is it, Angel?"

He slowly raised his head. Once gazing at everyone, he said - his voice a low growl as his eyes flashed yellow as he spoke -, "Faith's been killed."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

In a flash, she was on her feet and kicked Spike _hard_. He was thrown several feet back, and fell to the ground. In seconds, Dawn was upon him, hitting him as she screamed.

Abruptly Angel pulled Dawn away from Spike. In the stunned silence that fell, Spike staggered to his feet with Buffy's help. As he wiped the blood from his split lip, he rasped out, "Bloody 'Ell! She's a Slayer!"

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Methos ignored the vampire's protest as the Slayer said, "Apparently - through me or Faith dying - Dawn's become the next Slayer."

She looked over to Giles, and said with desperation in her eyes, "Giles, I don't want the Watchers to get a hold of Dawn. I won't allow it!"

The Immortal watched as Giles carefully placed the books he had been carrying onto the table where Methos sat, and said grimly, "Agreed."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Several minutes later, Giles put down the phone. It was a moment before he looked up, face grim, and said, "That was the Watchers Council. They just arrived in LA... They're on their way here."

"Giles, what are we going to do? You know they're coming after Dawn, they have to be."

The Watcher was silent for a long moment, before saying quietly with authority, "I _do_ have a plan. This is what I will need for you to do..."

_

* * *

_

And now, we continue with the story...


	2. Part 19: Unexpected Guests

**Immortality's Gift (**_**The Alternate Version**_**)**  
**Part 19: Unexpected Guests**

All was quiet in the Magic Box, as the few people present were each engrossed in their separate tasks. Dawn was firmly ensconced halfway up the stairs leading to the restricted section of the shop, idly looking around, her finished homework stacked neatly beside her. There had been a lot of studying she had had to make up for due to the whole Glory fiasco, and she had not been too keen on doing it, but she didn't have much choice with a Vampire and Slayer breathing down her neck over the matter. The rustling of paper and the quiet murmur of a male voice made her look over to see Angel and Spike, her father and nephew respectively (according to the Powers That Be through Their Messenger Whistler). She still found it difficult to accept, and only in rare moments did she think of them in that manner. They were looking through Buffy's will at the checkout counter, and she grimaced. She knew the Slayer had made the thing after Giles' constant badgering finally got to her one day just to shut the Watcher up, but Dawn had hoped to never see that document...even if it was only there for a different purpose.

Speaking of said Watcher, the young woman turned her head to look towards the table wedged in the back area of the shop to see Giles and the Immortal that had come to help out with Buffy intently studying an ancient demonology book. She quietly snorted. That book was probably only a hundredth of the age of the Immortal who read it. Oh, yes, she knew who he was: Methos, oldest living Immortal, also known to the general populace as Adam Pierson. She had heard him mumbling to himself while looking through an old book in front of a bookcase next to where she had seemingly been sleeping in a chair...and had immediately discovered all she could on him after that. She hadn't found much, and he was proving to be an enigma that she was just dying to uncover all the secrets of. He fascinated her, and his moods were as fluid as water. One could not be too sure when he was joking or not about some historical incident he said he was near or part of. Although, she thought she was starting to figure it out. There was this certain _glint_ he got in his eyes at times when he was talking straight-faced that she suspected was him laughing internally.

Shaking her head to dispel such thoughts, Dawn wondered what Buffy was doing at the house. Probably packing or watching television, since Giles explicitly forbade her from patrolling until _after_ the current situation was dealt with. She grinned. _That_ had been one hell of a temper tantrum the Immortal Vampire Slayer had thrown. It had taken Angel some time to calm her down and make her see reason.

Idly fiddling with the necklace she was wearing, Dawn turned to see who was entering the shop upon hearing the bell above the main door jingle. Seeing who it was, the girl rolled her eyes and huffed out a breath before leaning back, resting her arms on the steps behind her, and stretching out her legs before her while crossing them at the ankles.

_Show time_, she thought with vague interest as she watched Quentin Travers enter the Magic Box.

Giles, at the ringing of the bell, looked up and spotted Quentin. A frown firmly in place, the Watcher walked over to his superior. After the initial greeting and handshake, Giles asked, "Can you now tell me why you came? You did not specify your purpose over the phone."

"Indeed," Quentin conceded, "I did not, for a very good reason: I have brought you your new assignment."

A heavy stillness settled over the shop, followed by Giles taking off his glasses to polish them. Looking at the head of the Watcher's Council, he asked tensely, "A new Slayer? I thought that when a Watcher's Slayer passed on, they would not take on such a duty again."

Nodding his head in agreement, Quentin answered, "Normally, yes, but this is an unusual circumstance. You are, in truth, taking up an old assignment. There is no new Slayer until she has passed on."

Dawn sat up straight in her seat, her eyes widening with realization and hope, then unease. Quickly, she glanced to Angel to see his eyes narrowed and body tense. Beside the souled vampire, Spike looked on with puzzled suspicion. She turned her attention back to the two Watchers.

Giles had returned his glasses to his face, and was gazing intently at the man before him, then said, "I thought she had been killed in prison three days ago."

A small knowing smile appeared on the other Watcher's face, before he said with a touch of arrogance, "No, she didn't. We arranged her supposed death, and have, for the past few days, been making her a new identity, as well as erasing what evidence we can of her previous one."

"And where is she," Giles asked quietly.

"I'm right here," said a female voice coming from the entrance to the storage room.

Everyone turned towards the one who had spoken, and saw the Slayer Faith leaning against the doorway, arms folded; but she was not as they had known her, for while her form was the same, everything else was different. Her previously long dark brown locks were now jet-black (even her eyebrows), and in a short bob cut that was ragged enough that one almost thought she had taken a knife to it in a fit of rage. The clothing she wore was still skin tight and mostly leather, but no longer were they dark. Instead, they were faded and subdued hues of red, green, brown, and gray. As well, they were well worn, and not as pristinely kept as her old clothes were. The change was startling, but no less was the difference of her eye color from a dark chocolaty brown to a vibrant green only those born with such eyes could possess. Those eyes caused the mortals in the room to have a shiver run down their spine, for they reflected the darkness of her past and the remorse she felt for her actions.

After a moment of everyone staring at her, she offered a wan smile, and then looked down, almost shyly. A second later, she looked back up, a self-deprecating grin on her lips as she said, "I know, not what ya expected." She stepped forward, and turned in a circle before facing them again. Once she stopped, she waved, and added, "Let me introduce the new me: I'm Hope Trix, the Vampire Slayer. I've come to guard the Hellmouth from all the evil shit out there."

"Language, Hope," Quentin admonished, "you promised to cut down on the swearing. It doesn't suit your new persona."

The congenial and hesitant mood Faith had been exhibiting dropped suddenly, leaving in its wake one very exasperated Slayer on the verge of doing some sort of damage to somebody. Hands resting on her hips, Faith snapped out, "Listen here, buddy, I've taken your crap for three frickin' days! They know me. They know my past. I don't need to be some goody little two-shoes around them!"

"That may be so," the head Watcher stated sternly, "but we are in a public place, where anyone could walk in."

At this, Faith folded her arms before her angrily, and glowered mutinously at Quentin. Said Watcher just shook his head, and said to the man beside him, "With Buffy Summers gone, we knew that someone needed to be here to protect the Hellmouth. We had several options, and after some debate, we decided that having a Slayer here was the only solution." After Giles curtly nodded his understanding, he continued, his voice firm, then filled with a dark promise at the end, "After reviewing Faith's records, as well as the reports of those who investigated the events of our last encounter with her and what happened afterward, we decided to give her another chance. Although, if she does something wrong this time, we _will_ eliminate her."

Another tense silence descended, and Dawn chanced a look at Faith to see the reformed Slayer's reaction to those words. She was just in time to watch a small shudder run through the woman as she subtly hugged herself, and felt a brief pang of pity. As though feeling eyes on her, Faith looked over, and then down after seeing who was staring. Dawn felt her stomach clench in sympathy from the emotions she had seen in that brief glance: fear, anger, and helplessness...emotions she knew well from her stint of being kidnapped by Glory.

She knew what those emotions meant, and at last understood what Angel had been trying to explain to everyone since he arrived in Sunnydale when he brought up the subject: Faith had changed. It was a change that had started when someone had finally answered her unspoken plea for help. A change that was still going on...and would for her entire life. At that moment, Dawn made a decision that she knew would infuriate Buffy, but didn't care. Calmly, she picked up the homework beside her and set it on her lap, and then cleared her throat so quietly that only someone with supernatural hearing could have heard it. Faith immediately looked up at her, her eyes questioning. With a small welcoming smile, Dawn patted the empty space beside her on the stair. The Slayer raised an eyebrow in surprise. Dawn raised one back in challenge, while tilting her head to one side in question. A small hesitant, yet true, smile graced the ex-rogue Slayer's lips before she made her way over to Dawn and settled down beside the teenager.

In an obvious showing of her trust and acceptance of the one beside her, Dawn laid her head on the other's shoulder. She was rewarded a moment later when Faith relaxed and put an arm around her, drawing her closer into a more comfortable position. Feeling someone watching her, she glanced over at the checkout counter, and saw Angel gazing at her with pride and relief. She smiled warmly at her father, and then returned her attention to the discussion still going on between the two Watchers.

"She is now your responsibility, Rupert," Quentin was saying. "I expect an accurate accounting of her activities in your reports. I don't want to learn that half of what I'm reading is poppycock and half-truths like you did with the other Slayer."

His tone defensive, the resident Watcher replied sharply, "I was protecting her. You know that."

"Yes, and you already know my views on the matter," came the terse response.

With barely restrained anger, Giles asked succinctly, "Is there anything else we need to discuss?"

Understanding the question for what it was, Quentin answered evenly, "There is one item of business left: how goes the search for this Immortal, and what news do you have about the demon being summoned? Have you identified it yet?"

Giles took off his glasses to polish them, and said while looking down, "Not well. Even with Adam here, we haven't been able to find the one we are looking for. As for the demon: from the clues we have gathered we are narrowing down the possibilities."

"How long do we have until we must worry about this demon?"

"A little over a week," Adam said from where he sat, having been silently observing all that was happening until now. "As for this Immortal, she's proving elusive. I fear she knows I'm here and why, and is keeping a low profile because of it."

Quentin studied the Immortal who had spoken for a long moment, then turned back to Giles, and said, "Then it seems that I'll be staying a bit longer than I expected. I will be here each day until this problem is resolved, as well as to make sure Hope is settling in well." He glanced at everyone for a moment, his eyes resting on Faith a little longer than on anyone else, before saying, "I will see you tomorrow, then. Farewell."

With these words, the head of the Council of Watchers left. For close to a minute no one did anything, then Dawn stirred and muttered darkly, "Asshole."

That got a single abrupt laugh from Faith, as Angel said sharply, _"Dawn!"_

Coughing to cover the dumbfounded laughter that was struggling to come out, Spike gasped out in amazement, _"Bloody Hell!_ That man's even worse than what the Slayer was raving on about after the last time 'e was 'ere."

Obviously fighting to curb his ire as he placed his glasses in a pocket, Giles said gruffly, "Yes, well, unfortunately, I believe that with Buffy's death, he feels that he need not adhere to the rules she set down last time he was here. I expect him to intrude on us at every opportunity until he is happy that we are properly put in our place once more. Bloody git."

"Him being here is going to be a problem," Adam commented. "I do not relish the thought of dodging his attention to do what I came here to do...nor will she."

"Don't forget that we're also going to have to now make up stuff to show that we're making progress on this demon/Immortal thing," Dawn reminded the others as she stood up and walked down the steps to put her homework into her backpack.

"_Dawn,"_ Giles reprimanded with a sharp glance at Faith where she still sat on the staircase.

"What," the young woman responded in typical teenage fashion. "She's going to find out anyway, and I'd rather have her helping us instead of hindering us." She shrugged, and then said seriously over her shoulder as she zipped up her bag, "I'm just saying."

"Nibblet's got a point, Watcher," Spike said in agreement. "She's not actin' like what I've heard she should act."

"Despite what you think, Giles, she _can_ be trusted," Angel added.

"Yes, well, personal past experience says otherwise, Angel," the Watcher snapped.

"_HEY,"_ Dawn shouted, annoyed, grabbing everyone's attention. Once she had it, she pointed to the current subject of conversation, and said crossly, "'She' is right here, you know. You might want to start talking _to_ her, not _about_ her."

With a scowl firmly in place, Giles turned to look at the one Dawn pointed to. What he saw was not what he obviously expected to see. Instead of the cruel eyes and mocking smirk of the past, there was insecurity and unease as she sat there with her head bowed. After a second, the Slayer looked up.

Drawing in a deep breath to steady herself, Faith said somberly, looking directly into her Watcher's eyes, "I expected them to kill me when I felt B die, ya know. I didn't think they'd give me another chance," she grimaced, "death threats and all. I know I can't just say 'I'm sorry' and everything'll be all right again, but I'd like to try and make up for what I've done as much as possible."

Dawn watched as Giles seemed to deflate from his self-righteous wrath, and sigh heavily. Slipping his glasses out of his pocket and putting them back on, the Watcher replied to Faith's request, "The past is in the past, and cannot be changed, but the future is always shifting...despite what prophecies say. I learned that quite well by being Buffy's Watcher. I cannot promise that I will not snap at you, nor that my judgment will be unbiased, but I will do the best I can...if you do the same."

After a moment's consideration, Faith gracefully rose to her feet and walked over to Giles. Her face serious, she held out her hand and said, "Deal."

The hand that was offered was taken, and the pact sealed. Nodding her head in acknowledgment, the Slayer turned towards Dawn, and gazed at her in puzzlement, before commenting, "Ya know, I thought you'd've been the one to treat me the harshest, instead, you're makin' with the welcome wagon before anyone else."

Dawn shrugged nonchalantly, and answered, "I could, but technically, I wasn't around when you did all that stuff to everyone here, so I can't really point fingers, and Angel can be pretty convincing when he wants to be."

A weary grin on her face, Faith replied, "Got that right," before turning to look at Angel as he came towards her. As the oldest vampire in the room reached them, the Slayer said, "Soul Man, good to see you without Plexiglas between us. Those lights at the prison did nothin' for your coloring."

Dawn laughed as Angel merely shook his head, then he responded, "I'm glad you're alive. It upset me to think you had been killed."

Faith fidgeted at those words, and looked away, a faint blush staining her cheeks, then spotted Spike lounging against the checkout counter. They stared and studied each other for a while, then Spike smirked, and said perceptively, "I know that soul. You were the one who hijacked the Slayer's body for awhile."

The reinstated Slayer took a startled step back, and stammered out in shock, "H-how?"

Spike shrugged, and answered, "More to being a vampire than drinkin' blood and a long life, love."

Shaking her head and glancing uneasily at Angel for a moment as he stared at her, Faith turned to the last member of those present, and raised an eyebrow in question, her look appraising, before asking, "And who might you be?"

"Adam Pierson," the Immortal answered, as he, too, walked over to Faith. Offering his hand for a handshake, he added, "I'm Immortal, and am here to help out with a situation that came up."

Taking the offered hand briefly, the Slayer said, "Huh, now I'm confused. Dawn's saying that there's no situation, and you're saying there is. Which one is it?"

Smiling shrewdly, Methos answered, "Both."

Snorting, Faith pronounced, "That don't tell me shit."

"Exactly."

"Don't expect a straight answer from him, Faith," Dawn said knowingly. "He loves spouting off riddles for us to figure out on our own."

"Although," Adam admitted as he rocked back on his heels and placed his hands in his jeans pockets, "sometimes I tell you how it is exactly. It's up to you to figure out which one is which."

Rolling her eyes, Dawn asked Faith, "So where're you staying?"

Shrugging one shoulder, the Slayer said indifferently, "Anywhere. Probably at a hotel until I can get somethin' better."

"I have a better suggestion," Dawn announced. "Come home with me. There's room for ya... Well, if we put you in Mom or Buffy's room anyway."

Shrugging both shoulders this time, Faith said, "Fine by me."

"Perhaps your place is not the best idea, Dawn," Giles reminded quietly.

Placing her hands on her hips, the teenager replied irately, "Where _else_ is she gonna go, huh? You don't have a spare bedroom, and I know that new place Willow and Tara got doesn't. I'm not even gonna suggest breaking into Xander or Anya's homes either. It's bad enough that Adam is staying in a hotel right now."

"Rupert," Adam quietly admonished, "she's making sense. It's reasonable for me to be in a hotel, because I won't be here long and can afford it. This Slayer, though, is meant to be a resident of this town for probably the rest of her life, or until the Hellmouth is somehow closed."

"Fat load of chance _that_ ever happens," Faith snorted as she crossed her arms, then asked and pointed out, "So, what's the big secret you're trying to keep from me? 'Cause if you're trying to keep somethin' hidden, you're not doin' too good of a job."

Everyone else looked at each other for a second, then with a sigh, Giles nodded in defeat, and said, "Very well. Dawn, Angel, take Faith home with you and show her, then explain the particulars."

**

* * *

**

Author's Note:

Well, this is the start of what's going to be a very long story. Maybe even longer than _Heart's Desire_, 'though, don't ask me to swear to that! I hope you enjoy this new endeavor of mine. If you do: let me know. If you don't: tell me why. If you don't want to say anything: that's fine as well. Just read and enjoy.

**Up Next:** We get a glimpse of our villain..._hehehe!_


	3. Part 20: Contemplation

**Immortality's Gift (**_**The Alternate Version**_**)**  
**Part 20: Contemplation**

Within a cottage in a glen in Scotland, a woman prepared to go about her self-made tasks for the day. She was tall and slender, with a natural grace that very few could consciously duplicate. Her long dark brown hair was held back at the nape of her neck with a Celtic styled hairpin that she had gotten from a local jeweler. A simple sturdy burgundy dress that had seen much use and care clothed her body, and showed that she was very much a woman. As she placed a green knitted shawl upon her shoulders, the woman glanced about her home with gray eyes that were haunted with the long years of her Immortal life.

The cabin she stood in was a simple affair; a single room home, with a small table and chair against one wall, a cot for her bed beside another, and a fireplace that she used to cook. Herbs hung on the ceiling beams, and a handmade knotted rug covered a good portion of the floor. On shelves about the house, small bottles filled with crushed and cut herbs could be seen, as well as cooking utensils and a small set of dinnerware. A single window let in light beside the door leading outside, and on the other side of the window an armoire stood. Very few modern appliances were in the home. Those that were there were run by solar pane energy, and were placed in such a way as to be barely noticeable.

Seeing she had everything in order, the woman took up her herb-gathering basket, and stepped outside into the cool morning of that day. Her breath fogged before her like smoke as she walked across the mist covered ground towards the woods that surrounded her home and sanctuary. This was a land that she had lived in before, and loved. Spotting one of the herbs that she knew were ready to be harvested at the edge of the forest, the woman knelt down. As she carefully collected the herb, the woman thought of the first time she had come to this land.

A vision had brought her to Scotland, and desperation to escape and hide had driven her into these woods. It had been during the height of the witch-hunts, and this land had been caught in its fervor. But, unlike the English, the Celts that knew of the old ways and respected magic sought to protect those they could. She had been one of the lucky ones. Given this land forever in exchange for the use of her healing abilities and foresight whenever she was here, she had made this her refuge from the world, blessed and protected by the power of the old gods...gods she had known in her youth, before she became Immortal.

As she rose to her feet and continued on about her task, she thought of the reason she had come to this land: her Solstice Child, Duncan MacLeod. She smiled sadly, fondly. He never learned how much she had influenced his early years, and if she had her way, he never would. It was she whom had given the foundling to they he called mother and father, and she who sent Connor MacLeod to him to teach him the ways of an Immortal.

She had met the younger Highlander only once face-to-face before he had become Immortal, and it was not until almost four hundred years later that she saw him again, an Immortal man of honorable character. She had been keeping close watch on him through his mentor, and was well pleased with his progress in life. It was one of the reasons that when she heard that one of her students was going after him that she came, that and the vision she had had so long ago.

She wished she had been able to get to him sooner, for he had been unprepared to face his opponent, and only through her intervention had he not fallen. Once they had gotten away, she had done her best to prepare him, and he had won in the end. Her relief at his victory had been great, and she had been reluctant to part from him, but she had sensed that she needed to go, and left. Five months later, she found herself returning, but not to see her Highlander.

She had come for vengeance. An Immortal that had brought about her own immortality had come to her attention, and she knew that she could finally face him. Matters were not helped when she had gone to her Highlander to make him aware of her presence in the area and what was going on, and spotted a face she had never wanted to see again. Methos, one of the Four Horsemen, he who was her first lover and her betrayer. Her fury had been instant and absolute, only the presence of the Highlander had kept her from taking Death's head right there and then.

The week that followed was one of complete chaos, tumultuous emotions abounding within her, as the Horsemen were again reunited and she found herself once more their prisoner. The only thing that kept her sane throughout the experience was the thought that her Highlander would no doubt do all in his power to stop this group of evil Immortals from unleashing Hell on mortal-kind.

She had been right, as the Highlander had taken down two of the Horsemen in quick succession. What she had not expected was for Methos to destroy the third at the same exact moment as the Highlander killed the second. She had watched with growing horror as the two Quickenings had twisted and twined about the victorious Immortals, and linked them. Panic and fury had taken her, and she vowed within her heart that this monster would not sully her Highlander with his Quickening.

Grabbing the nearest weapon at hand, she had stood over her nemesis, and prepared to take his head. A voice had stopped her, not the voice of the Highlander, but another entirely. It had been a voice that only a god could have, and she froze in mid-motion. She had then fled as the voice had continued to speak. She still remembered every word spoken to her by that unknown god, and once again found them replaying in her mind.

"_**NO! He must live. His fate is not yet fulfilled, Daughter of Time."**_

Once the words had finished, images had assaulted her, causing her to collapse to her hands and knees from the force and power of the vision. She had been unable to fully comprehend what it was she had seen, and to this day, still found them bewildering. What she _had_ gotten out of the vision was that Methos was needed to aid the forces of Light in their battle against Evil. This knowledge had shaken her to the core, and she had had to force herself to face a very hard truth: Methos was not who he had been three thousand years ago when she had first encountered him.

With this knowledge twisting her gut, she had sensed the approach of the two other Immortals in the building, and ran, unwilling to face either one yet. She had taken refuge in the woods that she still called her own soon after, and had been here for the past five years trying to come to terms with all that had happened. She had realized over that time that three thousand years of suppressed grief, humiliation, and rage had made her irrational through the entire Horsemen incident. She had also come to understand that what she understood as truth was not necessarily true. It had taken a great amount of effort on her part, but she had been able to look only at the facts without her emotions getting in the way concerning the Horsemen, and been able to put the events concerning them behind her.

This did not mean that she was completely free emotionally from what had happened to her, but she could now sleep without the nightmares of those events, both past and near present, from overwhelming her. She did not believe she could ever stand being in Methos' presence for long, but knew that she would not attack him on sight any more, and that was what mattered. She had remembered once more that she was a healer, one meant to aid and not cause harm, and attempted to live the life of a healer, not a warrior.

Sighing heavily, the Immortal witch and seer Cassandra looked down at her full basket, then to the ground to see the length of the shadows, and deemed it was time to head home and prepare supper. The journey was short, and she knew the way well, having done this many times before. Yet, despite this, slowed and stopped at the edge of the forest, and gazed uneasily into the clearing about her home.

It was quiet, too quiet. It was a silence that spoke of great danger, and she had learned long ago to listen to nature's warnings above her own. Carefully, she scanned the clearing, spotted something that had not been there before, and frowned. Glancing around quickly, to see if anything else was out of place, she cautiously stepped into the clearing, wishing she had brought her sword with her. Slowly she moved towards the object she had noticed, details becoming clearer as she drew nearer.

It was a long rectangular box-like thing, the color of sand, and was tall enough to be level with her hip, while the length was a good ten feet and the width four feet. It reminded her a bit of an Egyptian coffin, and a she reached the foot of the thing, she knew it had to be a sarcophagus. There was no doubt in her mind about that, but it was not like any she had ever seen before.

Where an Egyptian sarcophagus was exquisitely carved and plaited with gold and precious gems, this one was plain, with barely any adornments on it. Five fist-sized colored crystals were arched at the top around a circular iris; from left to right the colors were purple, green, yellow, red, and blue. There was writing on them, but from where she stood, she could not see what they said.

Turning her attention to the body of the sarcophagus, Cassandra noticed the markings on it near the middle, and felt a chill run down her spine. The writings were not in any human language, but demonic in origin. She had seen them only one other time in her life: when she was Methos' slave. He had written in that language when he didn't want anyone to know what he was writing, and had taught her to read and write in it as well. She had only ever asked him once where he had learned this dialect, and had been stunned by his answer: he didn't know. It was then that she learned that any part of his life before his first Quickening was lost to him...at least he _thought_ it was his first Quickening. He had no knowledge about his life before that moment, not even to how old he truly was!

Shaking such thoughts from her head, the Immortal leaned over the sarcophagus and studied the writings. It took her a few minutes to decipher the words inscribed, as it had been over three millennia since she had last seen this script, but she was able to do it.

_The Essence of Illyria  
God-King of the Primordium_

Cassandra's brow drew down in unease. Something about those words pulled at her, and not in a good way. She walked around the sarcophagus to see if there was anything else, and found nothing, not even a way to open it. Seeing this, the Immortal looked carefully at the crystals at the top around the iris. Each one was inscribed with a different rune, and from left to right they read: Awareness, Threshold, Time, Protection, and Shifting.

Biting her lip as she exhaled through her nostrils forcefully, Cassandra slowly reached out and touched the first crystal on the left. Before she had time to react, or even pull back, the iris suddenly opened and let out a gust of air filled with dust particles fully into her face. Gasping sharply in shock as she staggered back from the sarcophagus, the Immortal immediately began coughing. A shudder coursed over her form as she felt _something_ move through her body. Collapsing to the ground several feet away from the casket, she stared wildly at it, fearful of whatever else might happen.

When nothing else transpired after several minutes, and her heart stopped pounding wildly, she slowly rose to her feet. Carefully circling around the object before her, she looked to see if anything else had changed when the iris opened, and found nothing. In a way, she was not surprised. She had a feeling that whatever this thing did, it had already done its work...and that frightened her more than anything else had in her life. She would have to make sure to stay close to home over the next couple of days, in case anything further happened with the sarcophagus...or herself.

Stopping beside her herb-gathering basket where she had dropped it when the iris opened, she knelt and gathered up what had fallen out, and stood again. Looking about her one last time, she went into her home.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

It was a clear night, and the nearly full moon shone brightly down upon the world. A few beams of that light found its way into Cassandra's home, to rest on the rug and dimly illuminate the vibrant colors. Nearby, the Immortal lay tossing and turning in bed, occasional moans escaping her. From the disarray of the bed, she had been doing this for a while. After a particularly agonized moan, she lay still for a moment, then sat bolt upright with a gasp. A second later, she lurched to the side, and threw up.

It was several minutes before she stopped heaving, and she clung to the side of the bed, staring in horror at the foul mess before her once she could stop and see straight. It was blood. She had vomited _her_ blood onto the floor of her home. It was a thing that should have been impossible, but it had happened.

"Oh, gods," she moaned before crawling out of bed.

She staggered over to the table, where her full water pail was, while clutching her stomach. Once there, she lifted up her small cauldron from beneath the table and filled it with half of the water from the bucket, before throwing some herbs into it. Her steps unsteady, the Immortal walked over to the hearth, and placed the cauldron on a hook over the banked fire. With a hand on the wall before her to steady herself, Cassandra reached down to the woodpile and then tossed a log onto the barely visible flames. The fire almost immediately roared to life, and began heating the water in the pot above.

She returned to the table, and fetched the bucket, before going to her bed. Falling more than lowering herself, the Immortal knelt, and cleaned up the vomited blood from the floor. She kept her teeth tightly clenched and her lips firmly pressed together as she swallowed repeatedly to avoid gagging. Once done, she rose to her feet, using her bed as a support, and walked back to the table. Reaching up, she took down a cup, and went over to the fireplace. Setting the cup down on the woodpile, she knelt and lifted the extremely hot cauldron from its hook.

As she was beginning to lower the pot, Cassandra suddenly lurched forward, a silent scream of agony ripping from her, her pain too great to voice. Water sloshed out of the cauldron and onto her, blisters immediately forming on her bare arms, as well as her legs beneath her nightgown. Convulsively, her hands let go of the cauldron as her back arched. Another silent scream escaped from her as she fell onto her side...directly on the boiling water now pooled around her. Her body spasmed uncontrollably as it was scalded and healed itself repeatedly. As she stiffened in acute agony, she at last screamed aloud her torment, before she convulsed again.

* * *

**Author's Note:** For those that are _Highlander: The Series_ fans, sorry if I went over material you're already aware of. I needed to truly get in depth into this character to explain what happens further along in this story.

**Up Next:** Faith gets a few surprises, and learns that things aren't always what they seem.


	4. Part 21: Surprise Reunion

**Immortality's Gift (**_**The Alternate Version**_**)**  
**Part 21: Surprise Reunion**

Lounging in the back seat of Angel's convertible, Faith gazed idly at the homes passing by that were lit brightly by a combination of natural and artificial light. The night was warm, and the Slayer had draped her jacket over her lap, revealing that she was wearing a low-cut, form-fitting tank top that exposed part of her stomach, which showed a simple gold belly ring with a stake charm attached. Her expression was one of indifference, but that was far from what she was truly feeling. She was uneasy about being back in Sunnydale, despite the guarantees of those who had made her new identity. The fact that those in the Magic Box had recognized her didn't assure her that she wouldn't be recognized by others. But how many outside of Buffy's little group had truly known her enough to recognize her on sight in this town that were a threat to her new life? None that were alive, or undead.

Was she truly ready to come back to this city? Not really, but what choice did she have? _Someone_ needed to be here to watch the Hellmouth. That was all there was to it. A sharp pang tugged at her heart as she spotted the Bronze, and the memory of her first sight of her sister-Slayer. Her brow furrowed as her eyes darkened with remembrance. So much had happened during that time: Kakistos, accidentally killing the Deputy Mayor, becoming the Mayor's sidekick, being put into that coma, and her eventual awakening, followed by her attempt of suicide by vampire. She nearly laughed at that final remembrance while casting a glance at Angel as he drove the car they were in. She had chosen the wrong vamp to kill her, as he had seen through her act before she even did. God, how that realization had hurt!

She had hated herself then, and only Angel's arms around her had kept her from going mad in that moment...just barely. Matters had not been helped when Buffy had come storming into LA not long after. She had almost run away then, but seeing Angel being led away in handcuffs had snapped something inside her. She couldn't let the one who had held out a hand to her, not once, but twice, take the blame for her actions. She just couldn't, so turned herself in. That had been the defining moment for her, when she knew that she would not, _could_ not be evil...no matter what. She was a Slayer, and she would do all in her power to uphold what that meant, even if she had to sacrifice herself for the sake of others.

Feeling Buffy die a week ago had solidified all that she had been striving for while in prison. When Quentin and his people came with their offer to free her not long after, she had instantly accepted, knowing that this was her one chance to redeem herself, and to live a better life. She hadn't expected some of the stuff the Watchers had done for her, but understood why. A Slayer that couldn't move about freely was of no use to anyone, and only wiping her past away could allow her to do what was needed. Perhaps they, too, had seen something good in her after all, and that was why they had given her this second chance. She had been given a Get Out of Jail Free card, a new life, and the chance to kick evil where it hurt. What more could a Slayer ask for?

These thoughts lifted her spirits, and she felt truly free in that moment of the darkness of her past. The memories and experiences were still there, but they no longer incapacitated her and kept her from her duty. It was an incredibly euphoric feeling. All that remained now was helping the others to see that she was not whom she had been, telling them she was sorry for the way she had acted, and asking them for forgiveness. Simple, really, and as easy as making them believe that the sun would rise in the West tomorrow morning.

She almost snorted at that last thought, and a corner of her mouth did twitch up for a moment in wry humor, when she felt eyes on her. Turning her head, Faith saw Dawn twisted around in her seat with her arm wrapped around the headrest, gazing at her, the teenager's expression curious as she studied the Slayer.

Gesturing to her own hair to explain the subject, Dawn asked, "So, dyed or natural? 'Cause I gotta say: if that's dyed, I wanna know what brand you used!"

Smiling faintly, the Slayer answered as she sat up straighter, "Natural. They performed some sortta mojo that changed my physical appearance at the DNA level...at least that's what I got out of their explanation. Even my fingerprints aren't the same."

Eyes widening, the teenager grinned, said, "Cool!" then asked inquisitively, "But what about the length, it kinda looks like ya took a knife to it."

Almost squirming in her seat in embarrassment, Faith admitted quietly while looking down, "I did. I was so mad about B dying, that I needed to do something, but Travers wouldn't let me go hunting. So in a fit of rage I grabbed a knife and hacked at it in fistfuls while cursing at them. It wasn't one of my better moments with them the past few days."

A silence descended, and grew. Unable to stand it, the Slayer looked up to see Dawn gazing at her seriously. After a moment, the teenager commented insightfully, "You really do like Buffy."

Running a hand through her hair, Faith sighed, and acknowledged, "Yeah, I did. I mean, she was a Slayer. She understood what that meant. We could swap stories about our experiences and know that when we said it was hard, we meant it, and weren't trying to downplay what we did like others thought. I know we didn't get along, but the few times we could put our differences aside, it was frickin' fantastic."

"Then why did you two have such problems?"

Slouching down in her seat, the Slayer thought for a moment, and then answered honestly, "We had too much shit happening in our lives, and then dumped our own crap on each other when we couldn't handle what we were already doing. On top of that, when we looked at each other, we saw a life we wanted, and we didn't see the downsides. It made us hate each other, and fucked both of us up royally." She sighed deeply, before saying wistfully, her voice trailing off at the end, "I wish I could tell her..."

Dawn laid her head down on the arm looped around the headrest, and inquired, "Tell her what?"

A breathless laugh escaped Faith before she said, "Everything. There's so much! I want to tell her I'm sorry, just: sorry, that I understand now, and would do things differently if I could do it over."

"Heavy," Dawn observed sagely.

Faith smile wanly, then, her expression becoming serious as she sat up and leaned forward, she said, "I want you to know, D, that if you need _anything_, I'll do what I can. Despite everything that happened between us, your sister meant a lot to me, and I hate that she's dead."

Dawn frowned, then shook her head, and said as she turned back around to face forward, "You don't need to do anything."

A frown now on her own face, Faith was about to add something, when Angel said as he turned the car, "We're here."

As the Slayer followed Angel and Dawn towards the house, she thought with some concern, _D should be bawling her eyes out about B's death, and Soul Man should be broodier than ever. Yet they aren't. And all that stuff they were hinting at earlier just begs for answers... I'm not bein' told something, and whatever it is is big. What the Hell's goin' on here?_

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Dawn pushed open the door of the residence as she stepped inside and called out, "We're home!" into an apparently empty house. Faith frowned as she followed behind the teenager, noticing the many closed, open, or half-full boxes littered about the place. On closer inspection, the Slayer noticed a great deal of the more permanent decorations no longer in their places. She also noticed that all the curtains were carefully drawn closed, as though to keep curious eyes from seeing anything inside the house.

Angel closing the door caused her to look towards him to see the souled vampire listening to something for a moment, before he said to Dawn, who was riffling through one of the nearly full boxes on the dinning table, "Dawn, could you get everybody something to drink while I see what she's up to?"

Without looking up, the teenager replied absently, "Sure," and kept doing what she was doing.

After a moment of her not deviating from her scrutiny of the box, Angel folded his arms across his chest, and stated firmly, _"Now,_ Dawn."

This caused said person to look up in irritation, before turning on her heel and stomping into the kitchen. Faith watched the muttering teen until she was out of sight, and then looked at Angel as he sighed heavily. Catching her gazing at him, the vampire said slightly apologetically, "She's still adjusting to everything that's happened. I have to go upstairs for a moment, so why don't you have a seat, and I'll be back shortly."

Faith nodded, and Angel quickly went up the stairs. The Slayer wandered into the living room, and settled onto the couch, finding it as comfortable as she remembered it being. As she gazed about the room, Faith noticed a manila folder stuck half-hazardly between two boxes on the coffee table. Curious, she leaned forward and grabbed the folder. Sitting back into her seat, she opened it. What she was gazing at took her a second to assimilate, but once she did, she quickly glanced through the rest of it, stunned and disbelieving.

She grew more confused the further she read, and thought to herself, _What the fuck? Soul Man's adopted D, and he's apparently married to B. These're also signed and dated today. B's dead, how's she supposedly signing these?_

She quickly snapped the folder shut as she heard Dawn say from the entrance of the room, "You know, it's rude to go through people's stuff without asking."

Faith snorted as she put the folder back where she had found it, and said in retaliation before looking over at the teenager, "Right. This is coming from Miss Sticky Fingers!"

Shaking her head with a long-suffering look on her face as she handed Faith a glass of soda, Dawn said semi-defensively, "Hey! You're the one who taught me, so don't be pointing fingers."

The Slayer saluted the teenager with her drink as she chuckled, a conspiratorial grin on her face. Her expression then became serious as she remembered the reason for this conversation, and asked as she put her drink down on the coffee table, "So, since you saw what I was doing, what's with those papers? They're signed and dated today, and that shouldn't be possible with B dead."

"Umm," Dawn said uncertainly, while placing her drink down on the end table beside her and sitting down across from the other woman. Fiddling with one of her bracelets, she continued hesitantly, "Well, there's a lot you probably don't know about what's happened around here recently." After a thoughtful pause, she inquired curiously, "What _do_ you know about what happened?"

Faith snorted derisively and scowled at the floor, before answering, "Not much. Only that B was protecting something from a hell goddess, and died to make sure our world wasn't shredded to pieces by the spell the bitch was doing with the thing B was trying to protect. Other than that: nothing. They wouldn't tell me what she was protectin', and said it was none of my business."

The silence following her words caused the Slayer to look up. She grew concerned as she saw that Dawn was hugging herself, face ashen. Leaning forward again, Faith asked, her voice echoing her concern, "Dawn?"

Without looking at the Slayer, the teenager whispered, "Then there's a lot we're going to have to tell you."

In the silence that descended, Angel stepped into the room. He took one look at the two women, and asked worriedly, "Everything alright?"

Faith nodded, then said, "Everything's peachy-keen, Soul Man. D's just been telling me there's a whole lotta shit ya guys have to tell me 'bout what's been goin' on."

A familiar voice then spoke from behind Angel that was completely unexpected by Faith, saying contemptuously, "Who says we're telling you anything?"

Drawing in breath sharply, Faith swiftly rose to her feet, wild-eyed. As she stared at the doorway that Angel stood in, she could see his indecision between what he should and wanted to do. A throat clearing pointedly behind him caused him to sigh heavily, before moving to the side. Faith now had a clear view to see the one she wanted to see, and felt her heart clench in hope and unease.

With a mouth that suddenly felt as dry as a desert, the dark-haired Slayer breathed out, "Buffy?"

"Faith," responded the other Slayer tautly, her arms folded across her chest from where she leaned in the doorway.

Her confusion evident, Faith stammered out, "B-but, I felt you die. You should be dead!"

"I was," came the curt retort.

Suspicion suddenly bloomed within her as Faith cautiously questioned, "How do I really know you are her?"

Buffy unfolded her arms and walked over to stand in front of Faith, looked directly into her eyes, and said with quiet intensity, "The night you turned yourself in to the cops in LA, we talked about being a victim. I was angry, furious. I didn't want to listen...but I remembered what you said. It took me until just recently to understand what you meant, but I know now." She paused for a moment, her lips pressed tightly together and her eyes darkened with memory, before continuing, "You were right. I hate losing control. I can't stand it. When Glory took what I had been guarding from me, I lost it. Only my friends needing me, and my need to get the bitch back for taking what was mine made me go on."

Faith blinked, intentionally breaking the staring contest, and drew in a steadying breath, before commenting as lightly as she could around her jangling nerves, "Same old Buffy, I see."

"And what's _that_ supposed to mean, huh?" Buffy snapped out, one hand resting on her hip.

Stepping back warily, Faith replied, "Nothing. I'm just sayin' that I believe you're who you say you are."

The blonde Slayer snorted, crossed her arms before her, and countered shrewdly, "Yeah, well, I got a question for _you:_ How do we know you're really Faith? I got witnesses to my revival. From Giles' phone call, the Council just brought you. That's suspicious in _my_ book. How do we know you're not some spy sent to look kinda like Faith, and not the real deal?"

Grimacing as she ran a hand through her shortened hair, the dark haired Slayer answered, "Going back to our last, uh, _talk_, I asked you something, and you never had the time to answer, 'cause of those Council assassins. So I'm asking it now, so you can finally answer me: How can I make it better between us?"

Her eyes narrowed to slits, Buffy answered darkly, "You want an answer to that, Faith? Well, here it is: This world doesn't need you. Go the fuck away and _die!"_

"_Buffy,"_ Angel said angrily, just as Dawn surged to her feet in fury, said "Hey,_ back off!"_ while stepping between the two Slayers and pushing Buffy away from Faith roughly.

The elder Slayer flew back through the hallway into the dinning room until she crashed into the dinning table. The table broke as Buffy fell to the floor, causing several of the open boxes on its surface to fall on her, spilling their contents. Slightly dazed, Buffy didn't raise her arms in enough time to protect herself from some very sharp metal sculptures in one box falling on her head and before her face. Crying out in pain as she hunched forward and covered her face, she was not aware of Angel rushing to her side.

Faith stared dumbfounded as Angel knelt down and carefully pulled Buffy's hands away from her face. Once he saw the level of damage, he said curtly to Dawn, "Go get a towel."

The younger Summers girl crossed her arms before her, and said defensively, "Why should I? It serves her right for what she said!" At Angel's pointed glare, she snarled, _"Fine!"_ and stomped into the kitchen.

As Dawn purposefully banged drawers open and closed to waste time, Faith said numbly the first thing to enter her mind, "The kid's a Slayer?" Angel silently nodded. _"How?"_

"Because I really _did_ die," came the muffled response from Buffy, her voice resigned and pain filled.

"But," Faith said, her confusion evident as she stood in the hallway gazing into the room, "the Slayer line goes through me now. How can she be a Slayer if I haven't died?"

"'Cause I'm not actually real, at least until about a year ago," answered Dawn as she stepped into the room with the requested towel. When Angel had taken the cloth and began to carefully wipe Buffy's face clear of blood, the teenager explained, saying, "You see, the thing that hell goddess was looking for? It was me."

"Huh?" was all the reformed Slayer could say as she stepped back to allow the teenager into the hall with her.

The youngest Slayer present leaned against the doorframe to the living room as Faith mirrored her against the wall across from her. As they did this, Dawn continued talking.

"You see, almost a year ago, I was this green ball of energy called the Key, until I was sent to Buffy in human form. Also, somehow, the monks who made me human implanted memories of me and my life before I was real into everyone that needed them. I even have legal papers that're appropriately aged and everything."

Faith gaped, her mind flashing back to the past few days and what the Watcher's Council had done for her, and understood as comments made by them now made sense. Pulling herself together, she said, "That sounds like what Quentin and his group did with me, except that those who knew me as a Slayer beforehand would still know the old me. Figures that they would use someone else's work to get what they want. This still doesn't explain how you're a Slayer though, Brat."

Dawn shifted uncomfortably under Faith's penetrating gaze, before answering, "Well, uh, this is when it starts getting tricky. I mean, _I'm_ still trying to grasp it! Anyway, you see, everyone's memories say I'm Buffy's sister, but, truthfully, I'm actually her and Angel's daughter through the Powers That Be's meddling. I'm supposed to be some sort of reward to those two for their hard work."

At that moment, Faith was very glad to be leaning against a wall, as her mind could barely wrap around the concept just presented to her. It seemed impossible, and yet, things were starting to make a strange sort of sense. The legal papers she had seen moments before, memories of those three interacting so easily in the past, how Dawn could look so different yet alike to the Summers women, all this and more made the puzzle that was Dawn complete.

Her chaotic thoughts finally settling, the reformed Slayer realized that there was still one question that hadn't been answered. Frowning, she said then asked, "That explains you, but how's Buffy still alive and kickin'?"

"I'm alive," the afore mentioned Slayer answered clearly behind where Dawn stood, causing the younger woman to move, "because I'm now what's called Immortal."

Stunned shock seared through Faith as she stared at Buffy. The eldest Slayer's face had been cleared of blood, and not a scar or mark was upon her. Suddenly finding herself sitting on the floor with no recollection of doing so, she stammered out, "H-h-how?"

Buffy shrugged nonchalantly as she held out a hand for Faith to take, and answered as she pulled said Slayer up, "Part of the Immortal package. I can't die permanently unless my head's cut off, and I get near instantaneous healing."

Faith shook her head in amazement as she muttered, "Well, shit," before asking in a normal tone of voice, "Where can I sign up for somethin' like that?"

Locking eyes with Faith so she would see the truth of what was said, Buffy replied bluntly, "Not possible, Faith. You can't just do some spell and be Immortal. Adam, the one who's teaching me about being this, says that there've been those that tried, but died while attempting it. You're either born with the possibility of being Immortal or not. Also, to activate one's immortality, you have to die a violent death that you can't be revived from. It's not pretty, and dying and reviving _hurts."_

The intensity of Buffy's gaze became too much for Faith, and she looked down. Seeing the blood stains on the other Slayer's shirt inexplicitly caused jealousy to clench her heart. Bitterly, she thought, _If I'd been Immortal when B stabbed me, I wouldn't've landed in that coma_, and immediately felt the wrongness of that thought. Angrily, she shoved the notion away. _What the fuck's wrong with me? Jeeze, get your head on straight, girl! There's more important stuff to be worried about._

Firmly reining in her emotions, she looked up and asked determinedly, "So what now? The Council obviously doesn't know you're alive nor about D here, or they'd be on you guys faster than it'd take a fried egg to cook in a hot skillet."

"That depends on what you plan to do, Faith," Angel responded quietly as he joined the conversation for the first time.

"What d'ya mean," Faith asked in some confusion.

The souled vampire didn't answer immediately as he ushered everyone back into the living room. Once everyone was seated, he explained and asked, "You obviously owe the Watcher's Council for what they've done to free you. The question then becomes how willing are you to break our confidences to pay off your debt to them?"

Faith's lips thinned as she carefully thought about the best way to answer. After a minute, she said candidly, "I don't owe them shit. What they've done for me I consider back payment for all the crap they put me through before I went to jail. I know exactly why Quentin got me outta there, and I'm not gonna play by his rules. So I'm askin' again, what're we doin'? With the display D gave earlier, she needs training, and with Quentin hanging around B's gotta stay low to avoid him. How do we work this?"

"That seems to be the big question," Buffy said with a sigh. "If he'd left after dropping you off, there wouldn't've been a problem. Dawn would've finished the school year, then we would have moved in with Angel. Now we need to avoid Quentin. Which brings up a good question: did he bring anyone else with him? Last time he was here he had a whole posse doing what he wanted."

Faith shrugged before saying dismissively, "Nah, just him. All the others are still in LA, not too far from where you live, Angel."

Angel frowned, but didn't respond otherwise as Dawn murmured with some relief, "Well, that's one less worry on us."

"Yeah, but that still doesn't solve our problem," Buffy responded.

Faith leaned forward in her seat as she asked, "Soul Man, ya still own that mansion on Crawford street?"

Angel shook his head, and said, "I sold it just after leaving here the first time."

"Damn."

"That doesn't leave too many places, then," Buffy murmured. "The only thing I can think of is one of the warehouses or the training room in the Magic Box."

Dawn huffed a breath out, then said as she slouched down in her seat in a sulk, "So a free-for-all for the vamps, or have Quentin find out about us. Great, just..._great."_

"We don't need to figure out what to do this very moment," Angel commented. "It might be a good idea to talk with everyone in our group about this. Also, it's late, and Dawn has school in the morning."

Ignoring Dawn's groan, Buffy said, "Yeah, I'm kinda wiped out myself from all the stuff that's happened today. Faith, you can have my old room. Angel and I are using the master bedroom, so if you have any problems, let us know."

* * *

**Up Next:** Cassandra comes face-to-face with a certain Old One, and the encounter is not at all pleasant for either of them!


	5. Part 22: Possession

**Immortality's Gift (**_**The Alternate Version**_**)**

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the lateness of this part, but I've been preoccupied with Real Life.  
**Author's Note 2:** (**nervously**) Heh, I do hope this exceeds everyone's expectations on Illyria's return. I know I surprised myself! (**crosses fingers**)

**

* * *

**

Part 22: Possession

In the Donan Woods, Cassandra lay on the floor of the cottage. Her thoughts were chaotic as she tried to comprehend what was happening to her. Hours had passed since she had awoken and started convulsing ceaselessly, and the sun was near to rising. Her Immortal healing had finally seemed to kick in, and had given her a much needed respite.

She knew instinctively that it would not last long.

Her breath ragged and short, she slowly turned onto her side and stilled, shuddering. She lay there unmoving for long moments as her insides twisted and churned, feverish sweat dripping off her body to land in the cool water puddled about her. With the cessation of ever-increasing levels of pain, the ability to think returned to Cassandra, and with thought came realization.

_The sarcophagus must have been cursed_, she thought with no surprise as she opened her eyes, looked towards her sleeping area with determination, and then began to move.

Unable to sit up, let alone stand, she dragged herself over to her bed, gasping with each movement she made. Upon reaching the bed, she thrust one shaking hand underneath it, and fumbled around for something. After a moment, her hand bumped against a cool, hard object, causing a metallic scraping sound, and sobbed with relief as she pulled her sword towards herself. Using the weapon as a crutch, Cassandra sat up. Once sitting upright, she maneuvered the sword until the hilt was resting in the joint between floor, bed, and wall where it couldn't be moved. That done, she then placed the blade's point against her chest, directly over her heart.

She only knew of one way to stop what was happening to her at this point, and that was to die. She had had curses placed on her before, and had found the only way to end them when magic didn't work was to temporarily cease to live, and allow her body to reset itself, as it were. With this thought firmly in mind, the Immortal drew in a ragged breath, and forced herself forward with all her strength and might against her sword.

The blade arched with the sudden pressure, unable to penetrate the skin, then shattered.

Cassandra's head impacted heavily with the wall as she continued her forward motion, causing her to cry out. She then moaned in horrified despair as she lay in an awkward position on the floor, her folded body pushing forward and down on her face, which was jammed into the corner above the bed. With some effort, the Immortal pushed away from the wall to fall onto her back. She remained where she was as stars swam and flashed about in her vision.

As she lay there, a sensation she had felt only once before moved through her. A feeling that happened when the sarcophagus had been opened by her touch. Her breath caught, and fear consumed her. But as quickly as the fear flared to life, so was it extinguished. Resolve filled her instead, as she understood what was happening.

She was being possessed, her physical self consumed from within, and her Immortal body was fighting it as no mortal possibly could.

There was only one thing left for her to do. She must fight this invasion on her own ground, in the realm where she excelled. Drawing in a steadying breath, she allowed her eyes to roll up into the back of her head as she closed them, then pushed her consciousness within until it touched her subconscious and weaved itself with it. Feeling as though she were too large for her body, she pushed her awareness outward into the spirit realm.

All physical sensation was gone as she now stood in the midst of a void of nothingness. With senses that were far greater than those of the physical body—as they were not limited by their environment, she knew she was not alone in this place. The other's presence was powerful, and she comprehended that this was the entity possessing her.

The Immortal spoke, demanding, "Who are you that invades my body?"

For a long moment, nothing happened, then the presence seemed to shift closer without moving, and twisted itself around her. In a voice that thundered with power in the vast nothingness that contained their essences, the apparition spoke.

"Who are you to question me, filth?"

Firmly standing her ground, she answered, "I am Cassandra, the one you seek to destroy and possess!"

Immediately, the presence tightened painfully about her, power flooding her senses beyond the point of bearing. Dimly was she aware of the creature speaking contemptuously, and what she heard filled her with sudden fury.

"You are nothing, worm, and will soon no longer matter. Your body will be mine."

Rage burning bright within her, the Immoral summoned forth the one weapon she possessed against this being. In a blaze of pale blue light, her Quickening surrounded her spirit like a shield. The creature withdrew from her with a bellow of pain. At last able to see in this place, she shuddered with revulsion as she viewed her opponent.

The creature filled the void in a never-ending coiled mass all around her that constantly moved and shifted, yet never left its position. Out of this indigo-scaled body, about fifteen feet of length meandered on the floor towards her. Upon this length, a torso and head reaching twenty-four feet high rose weaving back and forth in a slow hypnotic fashion. The part of the body that stood possessed a crimson underbelly and four arms along its sides. In the bottom set of clawed hands, the creature held two huge serrated swords of black iron away from itself, as its upper hands clasped between them a ball of midnight dark light. Its head was snake-like, yet possessed attributes that were vaguely humanoid, such as eyes that were human shaped and lidless. Within those orbs, acid-blue fire shone, and expressed great age, knowledge and power. Its gaping maw was open in a constant hiss, showing many jagged teeth and a pair of three-foot long fangs. A slim yet long tongue hung out of its mouth, excess venomous saliva dripping off its pronged end.

The overall impression Cassandra had of this fell creature was that of a demonic cross between a Naga and an Ouroboros.

As she stared up at this entity, Cassandra recalled the words on the sarcophagus, and found herself saying in a strangely calm-yet-dry tone, "You are Illyria, I presume."

All she had the impression next was that of a blue and red blur, before she was flying backwards through the air. Her back impacted heavily with the scaled body of the demon as the Immortal heard Illyria roar with fury, "YOU DARE SPEAK MY NAME? You have not the right!"

Cassandra stepped away from where she had landed against the demon's form, ire filling her. Her Quickening brightening further about her form, the Immortal replied, "I have every right. It is _my_ body that you seek to have!"

A low rumble filled the void, and took Cassandra by surprise as she realized it was laughter.

Its tone once more condescending, Illyria said, "My freedom was planned, but not who's form I would take. That task was left to my most devoted followers. You, scum, were the one they chose. 'Though, why they chose a human, I cannot guess."

Irritated, Cassandra snarled, then demanded, "If you find my form so repulsive, then why don't you leave?"

Scorn and disbelief shimmering in its eyes, the demon answered, "Once the process of possession is started, vessel, it can not be stopped...even by me. Your body will soon succumb to take on some of my appearance, and once I have defeated your spirit I will consume you to complete my awakening."

Determination and fury battled for domination within her as Cassandra snapped out, "You may possess my body, but you will _never_ have my soul, demon!"

"_We shall see,"_ Illyria hissed, an unholy light shinning within its eyes.

Those words were all the preparation Cassandra had before finding herself completely surrounded by the demon's many coils. The suddenness of the attack had caused her Quickening to suppress itself, and she had been left in what would have been suffocating darkness in the physical realm. This was not the real world, though, and much that was impossible was now probable.

With a feral scream, the Immortal summoned forth her Quickening again, and allowed it to fully encase her form as an armor of pale blue lightening bolts. The result of this was instantaneous as Illyria bellowed in pain and the coils about her drew back until they were safely away from the Immortal enough not to feel pain.

For a moment, nothing else happened, then the endless tail of the snake shifted until Illyria's head and torso were before the Immortal. Pointing one of its great swords at her, the demon demanded, "How is it that your light can repel me?"

Summoning forth the astral equivalent of the sword that had been shattered in the physical world, Cassandra answered coolly as she kept the weapon down at her side, "I am Immortal."

Illyria reared back in shock, and exclaimed while lowering its sword, "You are of the bastard children of my kind!"

Confusion and alarm swiftly filled her, causing Cassandra to ask sharply as she took a step back, "What do you mean by that?"

Shock still evident, the demon inquired curiously, "How can you know not what you are? Have the teachings of your origins become so lost?"

Wary of what she might hear, Cassandra explained and asked, "All that Immortals know about our origins is that every one of us are foundlings. We do not even know if we are born or simply come into existence out of nothing. How does this relate to what you know about us?"

Disgust in its voice, Illyria replied, "Then Immortals have lost all knowledge of what they are. Very well, vessel, I will tell you what your kind has forgotten.

"In the beginnings, there were the Greater Powers and the true demons. In time, the Greater Powers withdrew Their presence from the physical realm to watch all around Them, to influence all things in the way They wanted it to be. This left my kind to do what they wished to the lesser creatures. We wreaked havoc on the world, but soon tired of such simple play and turned on ourselves.

"In our battles we destroyed not just the body of our opponent, but the spirit as well. We did not want to risk the resurrection of an enemy similar to what is happening now. My kind alone could destroy our souls, but that same destruction was not complete.

"Fragments of the decimated souls escaped our attention, an oversight we would come to regret with time. These soul-shards varied in strength and power, and constantly sought a way to take physical form again. The Greater Powers saw this, and were intrigued. Gathering these soul-shards to Them, the Powers asked then what they would give to have a body. Their answer was unanimous: anything.

"The Greater Powers were well pleased with this response and declared that the soul-shards would be allowed bodies...but They alone would choose the form and how it would come about. The soul-shards readily agreed to this condition.

"Much debate happened then among the Greater Powers, and various factions formed. The two greatest sects argued between making them lesser demons or human-like. Neither side would give ground. In the end, They divided the soul-shards between them. The Powers that preferred the shadows made the lesser demons, while They who delighted in light created timeless humanoid beings they called Immortals.

"This, then, is the beginnings of your people. What have you to say to this, vessel?"

Cassandra's mind reeled, and she found herself asking dazedly as she desperately grasped onto what she could comprehend, "How do Immortals come into being: born or created, then placed with those that don't know what we are?"

Amusement, then disgust, was heard in its voice as Illyria responded, "Created. Humans, for all their weaknesses, are very powerful creatures. Only their being unable to access this power has kept them from becoming gods. This is why our kind despise humans so. All that potential...wasted in their short lives."

Cassandra frowned, and reluctantly agreed silently to what had just been said. Before she could comment, though, sensation overwhelmed her. She stiffened in place as she felt the pain of her body, then ruthlessly pushed it away. Her physical form was once more battling against Illyria's invasion, but she knew the demon was right. Her body would soon succumb to Illyria, but it would be up to the battle in this place that would decide who was in control. Resolved on her course of action, the Immortal raised her sword, pointed it at Illyria, and declared, "Enough talk. The time draws close for one of us to claim possession of my body. _Let's get this done!"_

Once more the demon laughed, this time in delight and anticipation, before stating as it raised its swords to the ready, "I like the way you think, Immortal. In another lifetime I may have allowed you to live, but that time is not now."

With these words, Illyria struck, a blur of motion in the void. Instinctively, Cassandra raised her sword to stop the fatal blow from happening, and dropped to her knees from the sheer force of the demon's attack. Her Quickening flared to stop her opponent's other weapon from striking her.

With a low growl, the Immortal slowly rose to her feet. As she held off the demon, she created a sword made out of her Quickening, and struck Illyria with it. The demon reared back with a bellow of pain before lashing out.

As Cassandra defended herself against the demon, the Immortal thought. There was only one other person alive who knew she could fight with two swords, and that was her teacher: Methos. He had taught her the demonic language and blade fighting at the same time in secret. They had never told the other Horsemen what they were doing when they left the camp together. She was aware now that this had led to Kronos' jealousy, and her subsequent escape.

A sharp pain, a glancing blow on her arm, brought her attention back to the present. Cassandra stepped back, knowing that such an action in this place meant nothing, and kept up her guard. As she blocked each lightning fast strike from Illyria, she began to realize that the demon was playing with her.

A snarl curled one side of her lip as anger started to flare a little bit brighter within her. Obliterating her swords, the Immortal moved across to the far side of the void with a thought. Summoning a ball of pure Quickening between her hands, Cassandra snapped out, "Illyria! Our weapons do naught in this place but irritate us. You will now learn my true strength here!"

At these words, the Immortal flung the ball of power at her opponent. As the energy struck Illyria, Cassandra summoned all of her Quickening to the void and encased the demon in it. The reaction of the other to this was instantaneous, as Illyria writhed in agony. Minutes passed before the demon, with a bellow of triumph, cast the Quickening from itself.

It lay still for long moments, before stirring and rising once more. In fury, Illyria said in a low hiss, "Not even those who killed me caused me such pain. _You will pay for your actions, vermin!"_

The demon reared further up into the air as its coils moved closer to the Immortal. As this happened, the orb of black light it held grew greater in size. When the bottom of the orb reached the top level of Illyria's coiled mass, it began to flatten and spread out until it reached the edges of the entwined body of the demon.

All that could now be seen by the faint flickering of Cassandra's Quickening was the black malevolent light above, and the many coils round about her. The Immortal prepared herself as best she could as the black mass of power began to descend towards her. Seemingly quicker than thought, Cassandra suddenly found herself surrounded by Illyria's energy. The crush of that power was like nothing she had ever known.

As Cassandra fought to free herself from this darkness, she felt her form begin to fray. She knew, then, that she was doing far more than she needed to in this place, and had been unwittingly playing by Illyria's rules. Closing unneeded eyes, the Immortal allowed the image she had taken in this place to dissipate, her awareness and essence now filling every part of the void not taken up by the demon. Her senses were everywhere, and told her everything that was happening in the void and to her body.

Assimilating the flood of information she was receiving from her senses, Cassandra began to realize that something was terribly wrong with her body. Through her senses, Cassandra knew that her physical self had succumbed to the curse that was preparing it for Illyria's occupation, but what had been done so far was not what should have happened.

From what she could sense of how the curse should work, her insides were meant to liquefy as her skin hardened into an impenetrable shell to house Illyria's essence after the demon consumed her spirit. Her body had become the shell as it was meant to. She knew this with undeniable certainty, but what had unexpectedly happened was that her insides were still there. Rather, they were present, but changed. Eating and sleeping would now be on a much lower point of necessity's scale, and would only need to be done once a week and monthly, respectively. Her stamina, as well, would now be near limitless.

These changes were all acceptable to the Immortal's body. What was not allowable was the twisting and writhing of her and Illyria's power in a shell that was not meant to contain such amounts of energy. Cassandra knew that her physical form would soon begin to fracture until it couldn't contain their essences anymore. She knew instinctively that the power released from that event would be catastrophic.

This knowledge firmly in mind, Cassandra was overcome with a vision of what would happen should this event take place. The British Isles would be obliterated, and the shock and tidal waves would cause death, destruction, and the coming of an ice age that would allow demons to once again rule the earth. As the vision faded away, Cassandra knew that at all costs this mustn't happen, but she did not know how to go about it.

For a second, despair overwhelmed her, then as she studied the two powers in her body, the inkling of an idea came to her.

Knowing that she had very little time left to avoid certain disaster, Cassandra summoned her Quickening once more, then slowly and surely pushed the demon's dark power into its essence. Remaining intangible, the Immortal thundered into the void, "ENOUGH OF THIS!"

Illyria stopped what it was about to do, and asked imperiously, "Why?"

"If we continue to battle with our powers, the body which you seek to possess will be destroyed. It is near to doing so already," Cassandra answered, her voice at a more normal tone.

The black light the demon was calling forth immediately disappeared, as Illyria demanded, "How then do you propose we settle the domination of this vessel, Immortal?"

Cassandra's essence began to gather together, no definite form evident but a blue light, as the Immortal replied, "I propose we combine our powers into one whole. The power of my Quickening coupled with your demonic force can allow us to live in my body indefinitely, but only if we join our powers. If we do not, and you take me over completely, you will perish in a short time...and destroy thousands in the process. What do you say to this, demon?"

Illyria hissed in displeasure, and stated angrily, "I care not about any but myself, Immortal, and _I do not share!_ There will be no _us._ I will destroy you and claim your body as my own!"

Cassandra despaired. Illyria would not listen. The way the demon was acting was unreasonable, and she now knew that she would have to do what she did not want to do.

Calling her Quickening and essence to the center of the void, Cassandra began to take on a shape that had no resemblance to her human one. Instead, the Immortal formed into something she had done only once before in this place: a wolf. This was no ordinary canine, though, and now that she knew the origins of Immortals, she understood why she became what she did before.

Her image slowly came into focus, revealing a shape that was vast and magnificent. She stood at about four to five stories tall, and was as long as a football field if not longer. Her coat was pure white, and she had silver eyes that glittered with the power of her Quickening. Claws that seemed to glimmer with a metallic sheen and were razor-sharp were on each paw. Fangs that were longer than Illyria's could just be seen peeking out between the closed lips of the wolf. The only strange thing that marked her as other than wolf and as demon in this form was the great white ram horns protruding to either side of her head from her brow. That, and the webbed silver wings on her back that looked strong enough to brake through titanium.

As her form finished coming into being, Cassandra looked down at Illyria, and saw what could only be shock and wonder on the demon's face, and a growing elation in its eyes.

Its emotions echoing in its voice, Illyria exclaimed, "You are Ardnassac's get!" The shapeshifted Immortal tilted her head to one side in confusion, her expression clearly asking for clarification as she remained silent. Seemingly lost in memory, the demon continued speaking, saying, "Ardnassac was my last and longest lover. That one's death enraged me, and I sought vengeance on they who killed him. My retribution lasted millennia's, and caused my downfall."

Illyria seemed to come back to itself, a look in its eyes that made Cassandra decidedly uneasy, as the demon stated, pleased, "Perhaps your choosing was not so strange after all."

Cassandra stepped back and crouched down warily, before asking, "Why?"

Moving almost sensuously towards the other, Illyria responded in a low intense tone, "Why, you ask, Immortal? I will tell you the reason. It means that my followers sought to find the one it would be pleasing for me to possess. Through you I am reunited with my lover."

The wolf bared her teeth, alarm flashing through her as she exclaimed, "I am not this Ardnassac! What can you possibly gain from the knowledge of my essence's origin?"

Illyria moved back and studied its opponent, before commenting, "You still do not understand. Ardnassac was a god on this world, and I its god. We were bonded together as no other demons could. Ardnassac's death consumed me, and I could not think of anything but revenge. Even after avenging my bonded was my fury absolute, it could not be stopped. This world knew only my wrath, and in desperation, all others that existed then sought to destroy me. They succeeded, but at a price. They could only destroy my body, for my essence they could not touch. It was too great."

Cassandra had been strangely drawn into this tale. She sensed the truth of the demon's words, and asked quietly, "What happened next?"

Illyria's eyes burned as it responded, "My followers saved what was left of me from being despoiled by my enemies. They then placed me in a casket that only my kind can be imprisoned in. Not long after, I was sent to the Deeper Well." The demon paused thoughtfully, then said, "I remember now: before I was taken to that place, my followers made a vow to me. They swore to find the essence of my bonded, and that I would be awakened to be with that one when I escaped the Deeper Well."

Gazing up at Cassandra with eyes that seemed to glow with fervent desire, Illyria concluded, "You may not be my Ardnassac, but you are of that one's essence. You are correct in saying the vessel cannot withstand both our powers. We are too strong. You cannot destroy me, nor I you...and I do not even wish to now. There is only one way for us to resolve this: we must become one entity, our essences combined."

Looking down into those gleaming acid-blue eyes, Cassandra inquired, "How shall we do this joining?"

The many coils of Illyria's body began to shift and move to settle behind the demon as it explained, "As the vessel was yours before my coming, you must consume my essence and incorporate it into yourself. Once that is done, we will most likely awaken in the physical realm of your world."

"Most likely," Cassandra repeated apprehensively. "You are not certain?"

"No," the demon admitted grudgingly, before adding, "Only one thing is certain: if we do not do this, we will be destroyed."

"Then let's get this done," the shapeshifted Immortal stated, determination in her eyes.

Illyria reared up, and said before moving forward with lightning speed, "You must take into yourself all of me. Not one speck must remain behind."

Cassandra braced herself as the demon lunged towards her, then leaped forward and opened her jaws wide. The moment Illyria passed her mouth, the Immortal felt power explode within her. Immediately, she collapsed, stunned. The power was great, stronger than the greatest of Quickenings she'd ever taken.

It was too much, but she remembered Illyria's warning, and did not close her jaws to the demon's essence.

As Illyria's power continued to flow into her, Cassandra struggled to her feet. Once standing, she shuddered, then began aiding the demon by swallowing. She mentally howled at the power painfully searing through her. She prayed to whatever deity would hear that this would end.

It seemed her plea was answered when she swallowed and encountered no more energy flowing into her essence. Cassandra sighed in relief as she felt the power settle within her as she stood on trembling legs. A moment later she stiffened and threw back her head as the power stirred, then screamed as it surged out of her spirit form and filled the void, obliterating her image.

The energy swirled and twisted about, before slowly collating and reforming into two forms of equal size: a demonic wolf and snake. A rope of blue light connected the two prone forms.

In the physical realm, the sun rose to shine upon an unconscious blue-hued Immortal Old One.

**

* * *

**

Author's Note 3:

Just for the record, this will _not_ turn into a Cassandra/Illyria romance! (**grimace**)

**Next Part:** Just how do those in Sunnydale plan to deal with everything that's going on?

**A Request:** At a suggestion from my Beta over a recent chat, I'm sending a call-out to any photomanip/digital artists. I would like to have pictures for my stories (_any_ of them!). They can be a scene or description I've written that catches your fancy, even a character sketch! Send them my way, and I'll post them on my website (_look in my bio for the link_). You will receive proper credit for your work, and may even find them tucked into the appropriate scene of the story you did!


	6. Part 23: Evasive Maneuvers

**Disclaimer:** The quote I paraphrase from Lord of the Rings isn't mine. Don't ask. You'll see what I'm talking about.

**Immortality's Gift (**_**The Alternate Version**_**)****  
Part 23: Evasive Maneuvers**

Faith and Dawn were laughing as they entered the Summers home the afternoon after Faith had learned what was really happening in Sunnydale. The former convict held a set of keys, while Dawn carried her backpack over one shoulder. They had just arrived from the town hall. For the past two years, the building had been used as a high school during the day, and it looked to remain that way until a new school was built sometime in the unforeseen future.

As Faith was closing the front door, Dawn commented to her, "You can be my chauffeur any day. You drive way better than Buffy! Of course, _Giles_ drives better than her."

From the dinning room, an indignant exclamation of "WHAT?" came from the just mentioned Slayer, followed by a sharp reprimand from Angel, saying, _"Buffy!"_

Curious, the two women followed the voices as they heard Angel say angrily, "Don't brake the table, I just fixed it!"

When the two Slayers entered the room, they saw the supernatural couple standing on either side of the table, glaring at each other. Hands resting on her hips, the eldest Slayer snapped out in her most irate and insolent tone, "Well, _excuse_ me! I sometimes _still_ don't know my own strength!"

The souled vampire glowered as he said curtly, "You've been a Slayer for nearly six years. That's no excuse."

Now folding her arms before her, Buffy snarled defensively, "Yeah, well, go take a walk in the sun!"

The tension in the air notched up about a hundred points as Dawn and Faith looked at each other, both thinking the same thing, _This isn't about the table._

With an internal sigh and grimace, Faith stepped forward, said firmly, "Alright, enough, you two," and almost stepped back from the glares she received. Drawing in a steadying breath as she purposefully ignored the looks sent her way, she turned her head to glance at Dawn, and hinted pointedly to the youngest Slayer, "Brat, why don't you go up and do your homework while I talk with these two?"

Dawn scowled, knowing the dismissal for what it was, then stomped her way up the stairs, and slammed her bedroom door shut once, then again when it bounced back open. The middle Slayer winced as she saw Buffy's expression darken further. She quickly stepped back and blocked the doorway with her arm, before saying, "Don't," when Buffy began heading out of the dinning room. At the sharp heated expression facing her, Faith added, "She's not the reason you're angry, so don't be taking it out on her, B."

Angel spoke up then, his expression and voice calm once more, saying, "She's right, Buffy. You came in here angry and upset after talking on the phone with Adam, and wouldn't say why. Will you tell us now?"

Faith watched as the anger drained away from Buffy's face, leaving in its wake great weariness, grief, and fear. She found herself hesitantly resting a hand on the eldest Slayer's shoulder, concern filling her. Buffy looked at her questioningly as she suggested, "Why don't we go sit down in the living room? There's some stuff that we need to talk about that we didn't get to in the general confusion of last night and this morning."

Buffy nodded hesitantly while biting her lip, then led the way into the previously mentioned room once Faith dropped her arm. The middle Slayer settled into one of the two chairs in the room, as Angel and Buffy sat down on the couch. She watched as the souled vampire held one of the eldest Slayer's hands in his.

Faith looked up at Buffy as Buffy commented, "I'm amazed at how calm you've been about all that's going on here, Faith. I was half expecting you to fly off the handle when I revealed myself last night. I'm still trying to figure out why Dawn did instead."

Faith shrugged indifferently, and said honestly, "Not much to do in prison, but think and finish my education. That, and Angel was somehow able to get me a shrink that knew about the supernatural. I was able to work out a lot of my problems with her."

"So no more bad girl, huh," Buffy inquired curiously.

Faith snorted, before saying incredulously while gesturing at herself, "As if I could get away with that with _this_ persona!" Her expression became somber, as she added, "Seriously, B, I'm not who I was. Everything I've thought, learned, and done since Sunnydale has made me take a closer look at myself and made me realize how screwed up I was. I might still fall into my old speech patterns on occasion, but I'm no longer that skanky bitch. This new identity I have, and all it means, is just what I needed to start over."

"A lot's changing these days. It should be no surprise that you are one of these changes," Angel commented.

"No kidding!" Faith exclaimed while leaning forward. "I know some of what's been going on around here from talking with Soul Man. I don't know everything, though. When did you break up with the beefcake, B? The way you two were going looked pretty strong, from what I saw. What changed?"

Buffy shifted uneasily, took her hand from Angel's, and leaned forward in her own seat. Biting her lip while she clasped her hands before her, the eldest Slayer looked down before replying, "It _seemed_ like it was, but it went downhill fast. When Mom—" she stopped, her voice cracking with emotion. Only Angel putting his hand comfortingly on her back allowed her to continue, saying, "When Mom became ill, I began to spend a lot of time with her and then Dawn when we realized what was going on with her. Riley—" Buffy grimaced, then sighed heavily. "I still don't completely understand what the hell he was thinking...or _why_ he was doing what he was doing. He said he wanted to understand me better, but..."

"What'd he do, B," Faith asked after the other woman trailed off.

Buffy looked up, directly into Faith's eyes, and said bluntly, "He was letting vampires bite him."

Angel growled, as Faith gapped at Buffy in stunned shock, trying to wrap her mind around what she had just heard. As she did this, the other Slayer continued talking, exasperation and disgust in her voice.

"Apparently, he needed to feel needed, since I wasn't paying enough attention to him, or even leaning on him for support." Frustration turned to anger as she exclaimed heatedly, "Well, excuse _me_, but I was busy taking care of my mom, and making sure the psycho-bitch from hell didn't get a hold of my sister! Then the bastard had the _nerve_ to say I had to choose between him and my family!"

Both eyebrows were raised as Faith stared in disbelief at Buffy's veheminent tone, sensing there was more to it than that, but knew better than to say anything. In the silence that fell, Dawn snorting loudly from the hallway startled everyone.

Buffy's head immediately whipped around to face the hallway as she demanded loudly, "Dawn, why aren't you doing your homework?"

The teenager entered the room, arms folded before her as she leaned back against the doorway. Defensively, Dawn said, "I was just coming down the stairs to get a soda, when I heard what you just said."

"And your snort," Buffy asked tensely.

At this, Dawn rolled her eyes in disbelief, then said, "Just remembering how you acted after Riley left. You over dramatized your grief so much you looked stupid."

"_HEY!"_

The youngest Slayer pinned the eldest with a look that was far too mature and serious for one her age. She said quietly, "I remember waking up the night he left to hear you laughing loudly in relief into your pillow. So don't go telling me that I don't have a right to say what I did."

An uncomfortable silence descended, and Faith chanced a look at Buffy and Angel. She frowned as she saw the discomfort in the souled vampire's eyes, and in her sister-Slayer's defensive and closed off pose. This was why she had sent the brat upstairs. She was going to have to diffuse this situation somehow to get to the crux of Buffy's attitude earlier.

With a heavy sigh, Faith pleaded with her eyes as she requested, "Dawn, go get your soda, and do your homework, would you?"

They looked at each other for a long moment, before Dawn reluctantly nodded. Soon enough, the teenager was heading back to her room. No one said or did anything until they heard the bedroom door close upstairs, and the sound of the radio coming on.

Shaking her head, Faith turned to look at Buffy, and asked, "So, you ready to talk about what's got you twisted up in such knots?"

Buffy immediately tensed up further, before forcing herself to relax. Shaking her head as if to clear her thoughts, she admitted, "Not really, but I guess I don't have much choice." She drew in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. "Since I've become Immortal, I've had a strange sense of _something_ about Dawn. I've talked with both Giles and Adam about this, and we've realized that she has the possibility of being Immortal like me. Considering the life expectancy of Slayers, it's more a certainty than a probability, though."

"Crap," was all that Faith could manage to say.

Buffy laughed once half-heartedly, before saying morosely in agreement, "Yeah."

Angel leaned forward then, touched his wife's arm to draw her attention to him, and asked, "How? You say you talked to both Adam and Giles about this. What did they say?"

Grimacing, the eldest Slayer admitted, "Actually, it's more what Whistler said, and they figured out. The two of them were at the Magic Box discussing something, when he popped in this morning. Apparently, the demon needed to tell Giles about a few things concerning me and Dawn, and since Adam was there, he was pulled into the explanations."

"What did they tell you," Angel asked as Faith sat back in her seat, willing to just watch and listen as this played out when she saw Buffy turn to face the souled vampire.

"Several things," Buffy answered. "They learned how I could be Immortal, when they say that I shouldn't be. It seems when those monks made Dawn from you and me, some of the Key's power leaked into me. That's why I could close that portal her blood created. You could have probably done it, as well, if we had known about you, Angel. Well, when I did that, along with Dawn's wish for me not to die, I became Immortal."

The eldest Slayer paused and frowned. She had clearly reached a point that she did not want to say, yet knew she must. Sighing in grim resignation, Buffy continued. "It also seems that the Powers That Be had more of a hand in Dawn's creation than we had already thought."

"In what way," Angel asked, once again taking Buffy's hand.

Looking into Angel's eyes, Buffy answered, "According to Whistler, this isn't the first time the Key has been given a body of some sort. Apparently, this is the Key's six hundred, sixty-fifth incarnation."

Angel stiffened in understanding, while Faith remained confused...and now uneasy. Wanting to understand, yet dreading it, she asked, "What's that mean?"

Buffy looked at her, and said, "It's kinda complicated. In simple terms, it means that if the Key's reincarnated again, Evil will have full control of it."

"That don't explain much," Faith stated.

Buffy nodded her agreement, and replied, "Yeah, it doesn't. The long version goes back to the creation of the universe. The Key was left over energy from all that, from what I understand. When Good and Evil began fighting over who should own it, They came to an agreement. Good had just won a major battle against Evil at that time, so Evil said Good could have the Key until its six hundred sixty-sixth incarnation. When that happens, Evil would have it...probably forever."

Faith blinked, then said, "Okay, I know the Brat is this Key thing, from what she said before, but what does that really mean? Why're Good and Evil so hot to have her?"

Angel was the one who answered this time, saying, "Think back to what Buffy was saying, Faith. The Key is the power left over from when the universe was created. Now, imagine that power also having the ability to destroy the universe, and maybe all alternate universes, too."

Chills worked its way down Faith's back as she shuddered in realization. Unable to keep the horror out of her voice, she asked, "How the hell are we supposed to keep _that_ from happening? The kid's mortal!"

Buffy gave a wry smile, her eyes emotionless, as she answered, "That's why the Powers That Be rigged a few things when They meddled with Dawn's creation. It's because of this that she's pre-Immortal."

Faith simply stared at Buffy, having already forgotten that little tidbit, before shaking her head and muttering, "Well, shit."

Buffy laughed shortly in humorless agreement, then said, "You've no idea."

Faith rubbed her forehead as if to stall the headache that was starting to grow there, then said and asked plaintively, "I need time to think about all this. Can we change the subject?"

Angel chuckled, as Buffy said, "Sure. How 'bout this: Willow got an email last night from Xander. Looks like I'm not going to be the only Scooby married when he and Anya get back from Las Vegas."

Faith quirked an eyebrow, before saying, "Cool. The guy deserves some happiness after everything he's gone through with us Slayers and all that crap. Speaking of being married, how're you two together? Last time I heard, you guys couldn't be with each other 'cause of the soul thing."

A slow grin took over Buffy's face as she said, "Kinda no longer a problem. Willow and Tara did a spell recently that superglued Angel's soul in place. They also got rid of some of the demon, too."

Both eyebrows were now up, as Faith responded, "No shit?" Buffy nodded, which caused the dark-haired Slayer to grin as well. "About damned time!"

"I agree with you on that," Angel said. After a glance at Buffy that Faith couldn't read, he added, "There's something we wanted to talk to you about, Faith. How would you like a job overseeing the art gallery that Joyce owned?"

Faith gawked as Buffy nodded her agreement to what Angel said. She found it hard to believe the amount of trust these two were willing to show her. Then she remembered a conversation she had had with Giles earlier today.

Her shoulders slumped in dejection as she said, "I'd love to, but Giles kinda already offered me a job helping out at the Magic Box."

"I know, Giles told me," Buffy said. "You don't have to be there all the time. In fact, I've already offered Willow and Tara work at the gallery, too. Between the three of you and your skills, you should be able to keep the place open. It's this, or I'm gonna have to sell it."

Faith thought about that for a minute, before saying with a lighter heart, "Tell you what, if Giles doesn't mind and those two agree, I'll do it."

"Great!" Buffy said, relief evident. "I'm sure we'll be able to work something out. Which reminds me: how would you like to live here?"

"For real," Faith asked, stunned.

Buffy nodded, then explained, "Dawn and I are moving in with Angel once Summer Break hits. I don't want to sell this place so that I have somewhere to stay when I visit."

_And the surprises just keep on coming_, the dark Slayer thought. She gave herself a moment to collect her thoughts, and to think thoroughly through what was being offered her. After a minute, she shrugged one shoulder and said, "Sure. So am I renting or what?"

Buffy shook her head, saying, "No rent, unless you want to?"

Faith nodded, and answered, "I'd feel better if I did."

"Alright," came the other Slayer's response, but just as she was about to say more the doorbell rang. Rubbing her neck, Buffy commented, "Feels like Adam's here."

Just then, Dawn was heard clamoring down the stairs as she shouted, "I've got it!" Jumping the last few steps, she landed with a heavy thud and ran to the door.

Faith rose from her seat to watch as the teenager yanked open the door. In an accusing voice, Dawn said, "You're late!"

The Immortal Faith had met last night stood in the doorway. He said in a cultured drawling tone, amusement in his eyes, "An Immortal is never late, Dawn Summers. Nor are they early. They arrive precisely when they mean to."

There was a pause as the Immortal and teenager looked at each other, then the scowl Dawn wore transformed into a mischievous grin of delight. Before Adam had time to respond, the youngest Slayer pulled him inside, the door slamming shut behind them as they came into the living room.

Faith sat back down as the two passed her, thinking, _Figures. Leave it to the Brat to find similar obsessions with someone that's a near perfect stranger._

As Dawn plopped down on the ground beside the chair the Immortal took, Buffy said warningly to her daughter, "Dawn, quit slamming the doors shut! Do it again, and you'll find yourself mopping and vacuuming all the floors in the house."

The teenager rolled her eyes as she huffed out a breath, which caused Faith to chuckle and comment, "Fat chance of that happenin', B."

Faith caught Angel looking heavenward for a moment as Buffy glowered at her, before the souled vampire said to Adam, "On the phone earlier, you said you wanted to talk to us. What about?"

"It better not be another bombshell like earlier," Buffy muttered sullenly.

Ignoring Buffy's comment and Dawn's look of curiosity, Adam answered, "I'd like to coordinate our schedules, especially since we will not be able to openly communicate our locations while Mr. Travers is here."

"Some of our schedules are up in the air at the moment," Faith commented. "We might want to wait until the Watcher and witches get here before we set anything in stone."

The Immortal inclined his head in agreement as Buffy said, "We might not be able to say when, but we can plan where. I don't know about you guys, but I don't want to chance Quentin stumbling on me and Dawn training."

Faith was the first one to speak after that, suggesting, "Well, what about the gallery?" Off of everyone's looks, she explained, "If I'm remembering the layout and size of the place right, we'd just have to shuffle a few things around a bit to clear one of the storage rooms in back."

Buffy was already shaking her head. Regretfully, the light-haired Slayer said, "It's a great idea, but we can't for a couple of reasons. One: it'd be too obvious, and two: contractual obligations make it impossible. Mom hired a security firm to watch over the place for a year not long before she died, and I can't get the contract canceled. Everything has to be closed and locked up by eight at night."

After a moment of silence to mull that over, Adam said, "I noticed a lot of empty warehouses when I surveyed the town after arriving here. Why not use one of them?"

The Slayers in the room frowned, as Angel answered, saying, "Those buildings aren't as empty as you think. My kind thrive in this town, and that's where they usually hang out during the day."

Adam's frown joined the others'.

Thoughtfully, Dawn said after a moment, "What if we had Willow and Tara set up wards to keep away those that meant us harm? Maybe even put something on the warehouse so that demons wouldn't see the place?"

"That's a thought," Buffy said in agreement, then admitted, "but I still don't like where. The only place I'd feel comfortable being at is the Magic Box. With Quentin here, that's not possible, though. If there was only some way for _us_ not to be noticed by _him_!"

At those words, Faith felt as though a light bulb had gone on above her head. Leaning forward in her seat with sudden excitement, she said, "What about this: we use the Magic Box, and place the wards Dawn was thinkin' about on the shop?"

"That...just might work," Buffy replied, amazement in her voice.

"We'd have to ask Willow and Tara if they can do it, before we do anything," Angel stated.

"Mmmhmm. Speaking of them," Buffy said, "I wonder what's taking them so long? Maybe I should call and find out what's going on."

The eldest Slayer had risen from her seat and was heading to the hall phone when the doorbell rang. From her vantage point, Faith watched as Buffy changed directions, peeked through the peephole, and gave a relieved sigh.

Opening the door, Buffy said to those on the other side, "What took you?"

Smiling faintly, Willow answered as she stepped through the doorway, followed by Tara and Giles, "Giles was having car troubles, so we swung by and picked him up on the way."

Buffy nodded, escorted them into the living room, and frowned at seeing nearly all the seats already taken. Leaving, she quickly came back with chairs from the dinning room. Rising from her seat, Faith told the Watcher to take hers, and then grabbed one of the chairs the other Slayer had brought in.

When everyone had settled in their chosen or offered seat, Buffy said, "I know two of you haven't really met, so let me make intros." She gestured as she spoke next. "Tara, Faith. Faith, Tara. She's Willow's girlfriend."

"We've kinda already met," Tara said softly, her eyes hesitant.

Faith mentally winced, remembering when that had been...and what she had been doing at the time. Preparing herself for possible refusal and a tongue-lashing, she said nervously to the light-haired witch, "Yeah, about that...I want to apologize, if you'll let me."

Tara gazed at her, and the Slayer had a feeling that the witch was seeing more than what was physically there. When almost two minutes had passed, Tara said in that still quiet voice, "Apology accepted." At Faith's wild-eyed look of stunned surprise, she explained matter-of-factly, "I've had time to learn about you since last we met. Dawn also told me this morning about what's currently going on with you when I picked her up for school. Also, I can read auras. What I see in yours tells me that you are trying to make up for your past and start over. I won't deny you my acceptance because I can see that you honestly want to change."

Faith blinked back the tears that suddenly wanted to fall, and when she realized that wasn't going to work, roughly rubbed her eyes. Her throat and chest felt too tight with emotion. In a gruff voice, she said, "Damn, you sure know how to make a girl want to cry."

"She does know how to get to the heart of a matter," Willow said with a touch of pride, causing Faith to look at her. Seeing the dark Slayer gazing at her, the witch added seriously, "She's talked me into giving you a chance, but I'll be watching."

Faith nodded her understanding. She had been expecting some trouble with her presence on the Hellmouth, but not exactly from whom she was actually getting snubbed by. With this thought in mind, she asked the redhead, "So I take it you and your girl are willing to work with me at the gallery?"

"Not only there," Giles said once Willow nodded, "but at my shop, as well."

Faith was flabbergasted as she gawked at the Watcher, before demanding, "How the hell am I supposed to do that?"

"I have a tentative schedule in mind," Giles admitted. "We can discuss it later."

"Speaking of things we need to discuss," Buffy said, drawing attention to herself, "there's a reason we're here instead of the Magic Box as usual. What are we gonna do to get Quentin out of our hair?"

Silence fell, as each was lost in their own thoughts, then Giles said as he wiped his glasses, "He will not leave until he is satisfied with the situation. I am also afraid that the situation he will wish to see dealt with is not the one we are portraying to him. He could have very easily sent a field Watcher to bring Faith here, but he didn't. There is always an ulterior motive to whatever he does when he gets personally involved."

"Great," Dawn muttered darkly. "Why don't we just feed him to the vamps?"

The other two Slayers showed interest in the idea, until Giles said reprovingly, _"Dawn."_

"I'd love to sic the Taraka Order on him," Buffy said, scowling at nothing in particular. Her words caused Angel to frown at her, but he remained silent.

"What about a memory charm to make him forget about our supposed demon/Immortal problem," Willow suggested.

Giles shook his head, then said, "It won't work. The Council trains all Watchers to recognize if something like that is done. Also, a report has already been made with Records. If he returns and doesn't file his observations here, nor can recall such an event needing observation, it will cause us untold problems."

Tara stirred, and said, "As we can't hurt him, or take away his memory, what about making it so that he doesn't notice her, even if they're in the same room?"

"That could work," Dawn said hopefully, then desperately added, "but what about _me?"_

"She's right," Giles responded. "If we do that, as well as a charm to not notice Dawn's training, he would become suspicious...especially once he notices us reacting to things he can't see or notice."

"Damnit," Buffy muttered in frustration, a sentiment most were taking up by this point. "Any other suggestions, people?"

Leaning back in his seat, a calculating look in his eyes, Adam suggested mercilessly, "When next Quentin comes to the shop, we place a spell on him to 'compel' him to do what we need him to do. In the event that he tries to tell what he knows about Buffy or Dawn, he will find himself unable to, as well as ill."

An uncomfortable silence descended, no one sure how to respond to what had just been said. Faith watched as Giles gave the Immortal a look that was a cross between disproval and a warning. Adam merely raised a single eyebrow, as though to dare the Watcher to say what he obviously wanted to say.

Stifling a snort, that dark Slayer frowned as a thought came to her. Gazing fully at the Watcher, faith said, "Giles." She waited until he was looking at her, before then saying, "Couldn't we get Quentin to leave the fastest if he thinks we've dealt with this Immortal/demon thing? Well, I remember when you guys tricked me into revealing I switched sides. Couldn't we get that sorcerer dude to pretend he's this Immortal, and convince some neutral or good demon to give us a hand?"

Taking off his glasses to wipe them with a handkerchief, he thought for a moment, then said with careful consideration, "It would work, were it not for one simple fact: the mage that aided us then, will not do so now. I called in a dept then, and I have no such insurance now."

Disappointment filled her as she muttered a curse to herself.

Silence once again fell, everyone trying to come up with even the glimmer of an idea. Several minutes passed, before Angel spoke up. There was a look in his eyes that made Faith internally wince, having had it aimed at her once.

"I have an idea," the souled vampire stated. "What if we put a warning spell system on the Magic Box and around each of our residences, keyed to Quentin. That way, we'd have advanced warning of his arrival, allowing Buffy to get out of sight, and for Dawn to hide what she was doing if she's training."

After a moment, Giles inquired, "Willow, Tara, would you be able to help in such an endeavor?"

Willow already looked deep in thought, as Tara replied, "I think we can. Give us tonight to work on it, and we'll get it set up tomorrow."

Buffy nodded, then stood. Once standing, she glanced around at everyone, and said, "I don't know about you guys, but I think we've planned ourselves out. All we can do now is wait and see what happens. We'll figure out what needs doing when we know something's not working. Now that I've said that, who's all up for some dinner?"

There was a unanimous agreement at that as a few stood up to help in the kitchen, leaving the others to talk about whatever they wanted until dinner was ready.

**

* * *

**

Credits:

I have to give credit where credit is do. The concept of exactly how powerful the Key is goes to Tals (thank you for letting me use it!) and the wonderful story Dawn Summers, Marine (specifically the last part). Go read it, it's amazing! My Beta Harry needs recognition, as well, for a few ideas on how to deal with Quentin. I also need to give thanks to Methos and his behemoth round-robin story Tales from the Barman.... I wouldn't of had the idea for how the wards should work otherwise! Both stories are found at tthfanfic-com (put a period where the dash is).

**Next Part:** So how well did Illyria's Ascension go? (**evil grin**)


	7. Part 24: Awakened

**Immortality's Gift (**_**The Alternate Version**_**)**

**A/N:** I'm _really_ sorry with how late this is, but if you've been keeping track of my LiveJournal, you'd kinda know why. As well, thank boredom and the sheer _need_ to escape reality for this part finally getting done. Amazing what stress can get you to do to relieve it!

**Dedication:** This part goes out to whomever nominated my story Heart's Desire for the _Crossing Over Awards_ in "Best Highlander Crossover." I thank you profusely. You made what had been a really bad day better!

**Part 24: Awakened**

Within the Donan Woods inside Cassandra's cottage, the Immortal's body lay. A vivid dark blue hue tinted parts of the woman's skin and hair, which could be seen clearly in the morning sunlight that streamed through an open window. She stirred for a moment, a deep breath being drawn in then let out in a long sigh, before stilling once again. One minute later, eyelids snapped open to reveal inhuman acid-blue eyes.

Sitting up suddenly, the woman silently rose to her feet with fluid, yet awkward, grace. There was something about her movements that spoke of a newness of being that could not be denied as she moved around the room, observing and studying the objects about her. Minutes passed, and the strangeness left, leaving in its wake a sense of contained power in motion.

Once satisfied with her observation of the room, the woman looked down at her body, examining and moving it, testing its capabilities in motion. Frowning in displeasure after bending every way she could, she strode out of the cottage. Stepping into the sunlight, the woman gazed about her until she spotted the sarcophagus in the otherwise empty field. Seeing what she had been looking for, she quickly moved over to it.

Standing at the head of the monolith, the woman studied it for a moment, then placed her hand over the purple crystal. She flexed her hand, and then dug her fingers into the stone as though it were loose sand. A second later, the crystal was pulled from the stone with ease, leaving a deep fist-sized crater in its wake.

Placing the crystal between both hands, the woman crushed and ground the gem into sand with ease, before allowing the sand to fall onto the casket into the hole she had made. She did this with each of the four remaining crystals.

As soon as all the gems were destroyed, she discarded the clothing she wore. After undressing, she placed her hands on either side of the sarcophagus, and then raised them skyward while throwing back her head, eyes closed. A wind began to blow about the clearing, the fiercest gusts whirling about the woman. One by one, the wind dipped into the crevasses, picked up the crystal sand, and began blowing it about the one whom had summoned it. Flecks of colored crystal began to land upon the woman's skin, and where it landed black light flickered, melding the sand to her flesh to form flexible skin-tight armor.

As the last fleck of sand bonded to the woman, the wind stopped, and she lowered her arms to examine her handiwork. After several moments, she nodded in satisfaction, then gazed coolly at the sarcophagus before her. A wind gusted by as her eyes narrowed, a glimmer of some dark emotion could be seen within those orbs. A sneer slowly formed on her blue-tinted lips, her hands tightening into fists at her sides. Hatred and fury at a level no mortal could possibly reach now shone within the ice-blue eyes.

A moment later, the reborn Old One screamed out her rage as she slammed her fisted hands down onto the sarcophagus, causing deep cracks to form in the stone. Breathing heavily, the demon ground out in forceful declaration, "No more shall I be contained," before she continued to pound her hands onto the casket with supernatural speed and force.

Within a minute's time, the sarcophagus shattered into large jagged blocks, revealing a massive crystalline figure encased within. The sculpture revealed was that of Illyria as she had once been, though many times smaller, and caused the demon to stop what she was doing. Almost lovingly, did the demon touch and caress the image, before slapping her hand down on what was its stomach.

As though it were thin ice, the crystal shattered, collapsing into the sarcophagus. A moment later, in a flash of blinding light, the crystal shards exploded outward. Raising an arm to shield her face, Illyria stepped backwards, and did not notice the shards change course direction towards herself.

The demon cried out as the crystal pieces struck her, causing her to stagger and collapse to the ground. Bloodless gashes appeared upon her body. Where the crystal landed, it seemed to melt and ooze into her, becoming part of the Old One.

Unnoticed by her, the remains of the sarcophagus before her began to turn into sand. As this happened, the wind picked up the granules and began blowing it about the stunned woman. Seemingly weakened by the attack of the crystal shards, Illyria could not protect herself from the windblown sand, and did not even try as it entered every open place on her body it could reach.

Within seconds, nothing remained of the sarcophagus but the dent in the ground where it had lain.

Her body shaking from what had just transpired, Illyria turned onto her side, choking and gagging as she felt the liquid crystal and sand bonding to, and molding, her insides as it willed, further changing the already changed body.

Illyria did not know nor cared what else had been done to the form that she now possessed. All she wanted was to leave this place and find out how this time differed from her own. From what little she had already gleaned from studying the cottage that belonged to the form she now possessed, much was not how it had been.

Rolling onto her stomach as the wounds she sustained glimmered with a strange electric purple light and healed themselves, Illyria rose to her feet and strode purposefully towards the edge of the field she was in. As she reached the edge of the clearing, the sense of another presence awakening within herself caused the reborn demon to pause. A sharp, throbbing ache suddenly surging through her body made her collapse to her hands and knees. Deciding to find out just what the shell's soul was doing, she tilted her head to the side in a bird-like fashion, her gaze and senses turning inward just as the other presence yanked the demon's essence forcefully towards itself.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

_Awakening. Her body in motion...yet she not in control. A spectator, nothing more. Not right. Not right! Not. Right. Notrightnotrightnot__**right!**_

"NO," the essence that was the Immortal Cassandra shouted as she fully came to awareness in the place where her spirit resided.

Looking around wildly in this pocket of the ether that she had created so long ago for herself, she saw the demon Illyria's snake-like essence prone on the ground, looking for all the world like it was asleep...and the blue cord of light trailing from it to her. Looking down, she noted that she was not in human form, and that the cord seemed to be tied around her neck. With a growl, she snapped at the cord, and attempted to jerk it off of herself.

A blindingly bright light flashed within the void momentarily, before she collapsed in sudden pain as the cord flickered and flared with lightning bolts and black light all along its length.

Groaning, the Immortal shook her head, then gazed at the cord, thinking to herself, _That must be what came to being to mark the sharing of our powers, but why am I the demon-wolf and not in human form like normal?_

As she continued to contemplate the cord and its possible meaning, she became aware of what was happening in the physical realm. Knowing that she must stop Illyria so they could talk before they left the wood, Cassandra eyed the magical rope, remembering what had just happened with it and her. Shuddering, the Immortal gathered up the cord into her mouth once more, and yanked it towards herself.

As the wolf collapsed in pain and stilled, falling into a sleep-like state, the snake stirred awake within the ether.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Cassandra came to in the physical realm, her body trembling with residual pain, and disoriented from shifting from one state to another so suddenly. With some difficulty, she righted herself until she was sitting upright on the ground. As the Immortal gazed about dazedly, instinctively feeling the changes in her body, she winced and placed a hand to her head. The demon was attempting to do what she had done just a moment before.

Grimacing, she said quietly, yet firmly, to the demonic essence within herself, "You won't have control that easily, Illyria. Not if I have anything to say about it!"

From within her mind, yet not part of it, she heard, _"I was not reborn to be denied my existence! You __**will**__ give to me control of this shell."_

Cassandra gasped and lurched forward as pain ripped through her anew. Anger burned bright within her heart as she had a brief insight into what was happening. Illyria was trying to use the cord to gain control, just as she had. Clearly seeing within her mind's eye the demon about to pull the cord connecting them once more, the Immortal snapped out, _**"NO! You will not pull that cord again!"**_

The command in those words reverberated through the air and within her mind. There was a moment of shocked silence from both. For Cassandra, it was for how powerful the compulsion in her voice had been. Illyria's response was for a completely different reason.

_"You __**dare**__ command me, I who once ruled this world in all my glory?"_

"That time is no more," Cassandra exclaimed as she surged to her feet, her anger returning. Brief flashes of a time that existed eons before hers flitted through her mind, of things beyond her imagining and comprehension, making her head go from aching to throbbing. "Your kind no longer exists in this world. You do not belong here!"

"_It is not for you to say if I should be here or not! The means of my rebirth is beyond your comprehension. That you survived my revival was not expected."_

The Immortal began stalking across the glade back to her home, unaware of her clothing shifting into the attire she wished to wear, nor of the tone of her skin, hair and eyes returning to a more normal human hue. Idly she noted the disappearance of the sarcophagus before entering her home, and said waspishly and bitterly once inside, "Things never happen as we wish it. That is one thing you will quickly come to learn in this era, Illyria."

"_You speak of things that do not please me, Immortal. Yet they are things that I must know to understand the time I find myself in. If only my Qwa'ha Xahn were here to guide me in this!"_

A shiver ran down Cassandra's back at those words, though she could not understand why. All she knew for certain was that last part had sounded suspiciously like a whine. Habitually, she began to gather the necessary ingredients for a tea to calm herself. As she did this, an image of Methos darted through her mind unwillingly. She gasped and dropped the pot she was holding to clutch her head as the demon clung to the memory.

In panic as she sensed Illyria's sudden interest, the Immortal cried out, _**"No!"**_ while collapsing to her knees.

The memory was instantly released, as the demon snarled darkly while purposefully pulling on the cord connecting them, _**"Do not command me.**__ You have not the right!"_

Her stomach rolling as shudders ran uncontrollably through her body, Cassandra gritted out through clenched teeth, "I have every right. You dared to steal my body and destroy my essence!" Shakily, as she felt Illyria subside within her, the Immortal sat up, leaned wearily against the counter behind her, and closed her eyes. Sighing as though to expel the emotions rampaging through her, she continued in a near monotone, "There is no Qwa'ha Xahn here to guide you, demon, but there is me. We must come to some sort of agreement to the co-habitation of this body, and you need to better understand the world you're about to venture into before I will allow you control again."

Silence descended, within and without, as the demon thought through what had just been said. A half hour had passed before Cassandra heard Illyria say reluctantly, _"Very well, I would know this world before I walk in it. Show me your memories."_

She nodded then, and opened her mind to the demon, carefully making sure to shield certain memories fromview. But no matter how careful she was, some slipped through before she could stop them.

The demon immediately sensed what she was doing, and fiercely latched onto those memories to keep her from hiding them. Cassandra struggled frantically to wrench the memories back into her keeping, but could not. As this happened, Illyria looked closely at what it held, and asked curiously, _"Who is this, that you would hide him from me?"_

The Immortal's head thudded back against the cabinet behind her as she admitted defeat and allowed the memories to be seen. She then said in that near lifeless tone, "I do not hide him from you, but from myself. He is part of a past that I am trying to move on from."

Dark low laughter filled the Immortal's mind and chilled her soul, as Illyria responded, _"A past that would have given you ample warning not to touch my casket...had you remembered it! It is your own foolery that has led to your possession, child of Ardnassac. He taught you __**my**__ language!"_

She tried to deny what she was hearing, but the proof was right before her. She remembered fully now the lessons Methos had given her, as well as the markings on the sarcophagus. Markings that had been more than mere decoration she now knew. But that did not matter at this moment, what mattered was dealing with the fallout of what had happened.

Shaking her head to clear it, the Immortal said firmly, "It is of the past and cannot be changed. We must focus on what is needed here. Look through the rest of my memories, and know the world as it is now. From that, we can decide what to do."

Illyria did not respond, only waited impatiently. The moment Cassandra freed her memories for the demon's perusal; it surged forward, and delved deeply. Memories not her own assaulted her as Illyria plundered her mind. Memories that were too alien and horrifying to comprehend. She felt suffocated by the sheer weight and size, the breadth of time lived, and found herself retreating into the furthest corner of her consciousness as far as she could.

Cassandra could feel herself beginning to loose grasp of reality when Illyria finished looking through what it needed from her. The relief she felt was immediate and intense, the words the demon spoke a moment later were not.

"_This world sickens me. Humans were nothing but the scum beneath our feet, and now they rule unchecked. That my kind have all but disappeared from this world is intolerable. Our right to exist and rule here must be taken back."_

Alarm and panic quickly seized a hold of the Immortal, and caused her to delve into herself to the place of her spirit. She knew she needed to be face-to-face for this conversation.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Cassandra came to in the ether, to find herself in a forest of her own making, one that mirrored the one that surrounded her cottage. Before her stood Illyria. The demon was glaring at her.

"So my words finally bring you back here," the Old One reborn sneered, contempt in its acidic gaze.

Ignoring that remark, the Immortal glared, and snapped out, "You will not even _think_ of attempting world domination, Illyria!"

Incredulous laughter burst forth from the demon's mouth, before it said, "You have no say in this."

Anger causing her Quickening to flicker about her, Cassandra retaliated, "It is _my_ body! I also have no desire to see this world brought to such darkness again."

"Loath as I am to say it, Immortal," Illyria commented while eyeing its opponent, "but it is _our_ body. I have say in what we do the same as you."

"Really?" Cassandra said lightly, wishing she had arms in this form to fold in front of her. "From what I've seen, heard, and experienced of you so far: you wish only for the glory of your former existence...an existence that could very well be our destruction if you attempt it now. The power humans are able to use is far greater than they had in your time. I would suspect that even your natural defenses would be hard pressed to block them, given enough time."

Silence was Illyria's only response, before it said while scowling, "It seems neither of us will give on this matter, and I grow weary of pressing my suite with you. The knowledge you possess is not complete, nor do I completely understand it. There is no sense in some of it. This Immortal, Methos: he knows my language. He will be able to give me the knowledge I seek, and lead me to those that still worship me."

A brief flash of panic ran through Cassandra before she suppressed it. Her hackles raised, the Immortal growled out, "No!"

Black light began to form between Illyria's claws as it snapped out, "Enough! Your constant defiance has grown beyond tiresome. I will listen to your bleatings no mores."

With those words, Cassandra suddenly found herself diving to avoid the ball of energy the Old One suddenly threw at her. As she got back to her feet, she prepared for an attack that never came. Instead, she stared at the demon's now prone form, and knew she had been tricked.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Illyria opened her eyes in the physical realm, ideas and plans already forming. Standing up, the demon looked around the cottage while ignoring the indignation she felt from the Immortal within. Spotting what she had been looking for, she took down a black handcrafted ceramic bowl and soon filled it with water.

Placing the bowl onto the table, the Old One tilted her head to one side, and demanded of the entity within, "You will give to me your sight, Seer."

The answer was immediate, _"NO!"_

Eyes narrowing, Illyria responded coldly, "Then we'll have to see if my assumption is correct."

Wariness and curiosity flickered along their bond as Illyria rested her hands on either side of the scrying bowl, leaned forward, and gazed into it. Tense silence fell. Time passed. Eyes narrowed in displeasure, and more time passed.

After a half an hour had gone by, Cassandra asked dryly with a touch of amusement, _"Does this prove your assumption, Old One?"_

"Partly," Illyria coolly answered.

_"And what does that mean,"_ came the suspicious response.

A glimmer of anticipation lit within her eyes, as the Old One said simply, "Watch and see."

Grabbing a hold of the scrying bowl, the demon threw the contents into the air. As water droplets began to descend to the ground, Illyria raised a hand...and the handmade rain stopped in mid-air. In the next moment, the Old One moved her hand through the droplets and manipulated them until the water was formed into a clear thin circular sheet.

A faint luminescent glow covered the water as Illyria commanded, "Show me this world."

The Immortal's shock was clearly felt as the water seemed to ripple and an image of Earth became visible.

_"How,"_ Cassandra asked, bewildered. _"I can feel you pulling on my power!"_

Smirking, the demon answered, "Have you already forgotten, Immortal? We joined our powers together to continue existing within this shell. Thus, our separate abilities can be used by the other, provided we can use them through our own power. You have already done so once. The clothing we wear you created. Now be silent, and let me work."

The silence within was thoughtful and attentive as Illyria ordered, "Show me the location where we are."

Earth slowly turned until the European land mass faced the ones watching. Once stopped, the image began to zoom in until it stopped to show an aerial view of Cassandra's cottage and the glade it resided in.

Nodding in satisfaction, Illyria said, "Vahla ha'nesh. I would see where its entrance resides in this time. Now."

The image zoomed out until it once more revealed Earth. The planet turned and stopped when the Americas were revealed. Once there, it began zooming in on North America, then onto California. From there, it focused on the Los Angeles area. Moving through the city, the image stopped once inside a bank.

"I shall have to see how my people fair in there sometime soon," the Old One commented.

"_What is vahla ha'nesh,"_ Cassandra asked. _"I am not familiar with that word."_

"It is my temple. A place I alone can open, as I created it," the demon answered, then ordered of the watery screen before her, "Show to me the location of the Immortal Methos."

The image seemed to distort for a moment, before weaving through LA until it was outside of the city. Once there, it moved along until stopping before a sign that said "Welcome to Sunnydale," then suddenly bounced upwards until it hovered over the town, and did not go further...'though it seemed to be trying

As Immortal and Old One watched curiously, the image started to warp and twist. At first, both thought it was the image doing this, but soon realized this was not so as the sheet of water began to boil and pop. In the next moment, the water exploded and multi-hued light flared brightly.

Reflexively putting up her hands protectively while taking a step back, the demon then stared as she realized the water was no more. The ground was not even wet. Tilting her head, Illyria murmured contemplatively, "Only two things could have caused this to happen: magical wards or a Hellmouth."

Shaking off her shock, Cassandra commented, _"Or both."_

"True," Illyria conceded, "but regardless of such things, that is where the one I seek is."

_"And what if he is not there when we arrive? It will take time to travel from here to there,"_ Cassandra asked and pointed out, her tone hopeful.

"For mortals it might," the Old One said, "but not for us."

With those words, Illyria walked outside. Raising a hand before her as she exited the building, a wave of power went ahead of her. Five hundred feet away, a circular ripple in space appeared, before swiftly parting to reveal the other side. The demon stepped through it without hesitating. A second later, the portal closed.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

In the center of the earth, a place called the Deeper Well, an immortal being stood, torch in hand. Before the man known as Drogyn, an empty cavern could be seen. On either side of the cavern were others, but these were not empty. Instead, these contained sarcophaguses filled with the remaining essences of Old Ones.

As Drogyn continued to grimly stand in front of the empty cavern, his eyes flicked to the engravings outlining the small cave. They faintly shown with a blue light, just like all the others in that place. Even as he watched, though, the dim light flared brightly, before turning a deep blood red.

He knew in that moment that the most feared and revered of the Old Ones had been reborn. Turning away from the cavern, he headed towards his living quarters, then the library to collect what he needed. It was time to bring the Champions together that were necessary to defeat such a one as Illyria. This dimension and many others depended on it.

* * *

**Next Part:** Some magic is done, some things are discovered, and the Watcher's Council gets a slap upside its head. (**snicker!**)  
**Part Completed:** 12/9/07


	8. Part 25: Evasions & Confrontations

**Immortality's Gift (**_**The Alternate Version**_**)**

**A/N:** You know, I hadn't even realized it until now, but we passed the fifty page mark in the last part, and are now past page sixty. Yay me!  
**Dedication:** This part is dedicated to my Beta, Harry, because he was crazy enough to review some of my older works part-by-part recently!

**Part 25: Evasions & Confrontations**

Quentin Travers was not a happy man as he walked out of his hotel room, a satchel filled with magical supplies and a few weapons on one shoulder. He had gone to the Slayer's room that morning to "talk" with Faith, only to find the room empty, the bed not slept in, her belongings gone, and a note for him.

_Thanks for the room, but I've got a place to crash now.  
__F__Ho__Fa__Hop__Fai__Hope Tr__You know who__  
P.S.: I'm not your bitch, so don't treat me like I am._

He had been furious. What he had been planning now needed to be drastically and swiftly changed. They _would_ have this Slayer under their control. She had a debt to pay them, and she _would_ pay it...and if she didn't, she was dead.

He had called Rupert when he had gotten back to his room, knowing the resident Watcher would most likely know where the wayward Slayer had decided to live. The man had proven less than helpful.

In the end, he resorted to a locator spell, only to have it hindered in a strange and somewhat alarming fashion. The crystal had exploded, and the map burst into flames. Luckily, he had had a bottle of water nearby to douse the flames before the fire alarm could kick in. After that incident, he decided that to vacate the premises _might_ be a wise thing to do.

That decision had led to now: the Head of the Watchers Council walking the streets of Sunnydale in search of the Slayer. This was work completely below his station, and _someone_ would be paying for it!

Quentin was taking a shortcut through one of the parks in this city, when he spotted two somewhat familiar faces ahead: Willow Rosenberg and Tara Maclay. The redheaded witch seemed extremely nervous, while the other calm. A strange switch in personalities, he knew, and one that bore closer scrutiny.

Using the vegetation about him to hide his presence, the Watcher discretely drew closer to the two, until he could clearly hear them, yet they not see him.

"Do you really think this will work," Miss Rosenberg was asking of her companion.

"It worked on our apartment, didn't it?" The other stated quietly. "We carefully worked out what we needed the spell to do, and you saw how well it settled when we did it at our place. It'll do the same thing at the other locations."

The redhead wrung her hands as she said, "I _know_! But what if he notices the spell? Giles said that Watchers are supposed to be observant like that."

A gentle smile and a faint hint of amusement were in the slightly taller one's eyes as she replied, "What if he does? Willow, he's likely only to go to the Magic Box out of all the places we're warding. The others are just a precaution. Also, it's a _magic_ shop! It makes sense that there would be spells happening there."

"But, but, what if we haven't set the distance right? W-what if we haven't given them enough time to hide and stuff before Quentin shows up? That would be really, _really_ bad!"

"Willow. _Breathe!_ Everything'll be fine. Come on, Giles said Mr. Travers won't be there right now. So we should get over there and do this while we have the chance," Miss Maclay coaxed.

Nodding in reluctant agreement, Willow followed Tara, saying just before they were out of Quentin's hearing range, "I still say we should've made the spell mobile, and centered on them."

Tara's response was barely heard, as she commented, "Only if we had been able to work out the counter charm last night. Which we didn't."

The Watcher remained where he was as he watched the two witches move out of sight, his mind carefully going over what he had just heard. _So, they are keeping something from me_, Quentin thought. _Not very smart of them...especially now that I know of it. Now, what was that spell that would allow me to get past detection spells undetected?_

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

It was noontime at the Magic Box, and Rupert Giles was ruing the fact that Anya was not there as he went over the monetary accounts. The girl might be an ex-demon and not know how to behave in human society well, but she sure knew her numbers. That and her knowledge of demon lore were invaluable.

Looking once more at his calculations, and wondering how they were not adding up correctly, he at last shook his head and gave up. He would just have to wait for Anya to return. Hopefully, she would be able to sort out this mess. As he was putting the account book back under the counter in the vault there, the doorbell jingled as the door opened. Looking up, he saw Adam enter, Faith trailing behind the Immortal at a leisurely pace, alert eyes darting quickly about the shop.

Standing up straight as the Slayer's eyes focused on him, Giles inquired, "F-faith, Adam, I hope everything is well?"

"Peachy-keen, Watcher-mine," Faith answered flippantly as she went up to the counter opposite him, and leaned sideways against it.

Giles' gut twisted at those words, unsure if he should take them at face value, or as something else. Taking off his glasses and pulling out his ever-present handkerchief, he began to clean the lenses as he asked Adam, "How goes your search?"

The Immortal grimaced, before saying, "Not well. I can't seem to find a demon willing enough to pull this off, and all my old connections aren't working either. Angel is having similar difficulties, as well."

"Blast," the Watcher muttered, a brief scowl appearing on his face, before he resolutely brought his mind to other matters. "Willow and Tara were here this morning. The wards are functioning as intended."

"Ya sure 'bout that, G," the Slayer asked seriously. "I don't want nothin' bad happenin' to D and B because of a goof up."

Giles withheld a wince at the nickname, thinking to himself that it was a lot better than Xander's, and replied, "I know it works, as an hour ago, Quentin was here." He then paused, and _looked_ at Faith. "He's quite cross with you at the moment."

Faith scoffed as Adam inquired, "How will we know when the wards are active? As this is a public business, I would imagine it would not be too obvious."

The Watcher nodded in agreement, before saying, "You are correct." He pointed to the top of a tall bookcase set almost midway between the checkout counter and the table where they did most of their Slayer-related research. Where he pointed was a crystal dragon glowing a steady forest green. "When Quentin triggers the wards, it will glow red. They also added the, ah, _effect_ of smoke coming out of its mouth when it activates."

"Huh, and if no one's looking at it," Faith asked.

"It will give a steady whistle, that will grow louder the closer he gets, like a teakettle blowing. When it does that, you need only say '_finite_' to stop the sound."

"Clever," the Immortal commented, before pulling out a cellphone and flipping it open. He quickly dialed a number on speed dial, and waited for the line to be picked up on the other end. A moment later, he said, "Come on it."

As Adam did that, the Slayer asked while gesturing toward the crystal statue, "Where'd those come from?"

"Uh, well," Giles stuttered for a second while fiddling with his glasses, not expecting the question, before saying, "They were already in the shop before I bought it. I'm just glad to finally find a use for them."

"Cool," was Faith's absent response as she watched Dawn enter the store, her back now against the counter. "Hey, Brat."

Dawn rolled her eyes at the nickname, and came to stand beside her fellow Slayer.

Giles put his glasses back on as he said, "I am assuming that Buffy will be joining us shortly?"

Dawn looked over at him and nodded, saying, "Yep."

Making a humming sound of understanding, the Watcher turned to Adam, who was studying the magicked statue, and asked him, "What do you have planned today with Buffy, Adam?"

The Immortal looked towards Giles, and answered, "Just a basic overview of what she already knows, and then I'll teach her the more advanced forms of swordplay based on her performance."

"Sounds good," Buffy said as she stepped out of the training room. Stopping and leaning against the study table, she said to her daughter, "You ready for your first day of Slayer training, Dawn?"

The teenager's face lit up with anticipation as she nodded her head enthusiastically. This caused Faith to laugh lowly, and throw an arm across Dawn's shoulders.

Squeezing the girl in a one armed hug, the middle Slayer commented, "You'll feel otherwise when I'm through with you, D."

Dawn just rolled her eyes at that.

Giles cleared his throat to draw everyone's attention to him. Once he had it, he suggested, "Perhaps it is best to get started? I still need to man the store, but will step in periodically to see how things are progressing."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

A bone-jarring thud sounded over the clashing of swords within the training room. Silence quickly descended as the two Immortals stopped their swordplay to stare at Dawn's now prone form, Buffy looking concerned. Faith walked a slow circle about the breathless teenager while wiping sweat from her brow.

As Dawn groaned and reluctantly began to get up, the middle Slayer said, "Damn, D, I haven't had this much fun since B and I sparred for the hell of it."

Dawn stopped getting up, and glared up at Faith from her sitting position. The reinstated Slayer just smirked, before extending her hand.

When Dawn didn't take her hand, and remained where she was, Faith rocked back on her heels, crossed her arms, and asked, "Ya bring that knife I gave you?"

"It's in Adam's car in my backpack," the young Slayer mumbled in reply.

"It's not going to do you much good there, Brat," Faith commented lightly, before saying a little more seriously, "Tell you what: we'll take a short break. You go get that knife, and I'll give you some fine pointers on how to use it, as well as teach you a few tricks that've come in handy for me a few times. How's that sound?"

Dawn looked intrigued, and silently extended her hand to the other Slayer. Grinning, Faith took the offered hand, and hoisted the girl to her feet with ease. Once standing, Faith gave her a light push, and said, "Get going. Clock's ticking."

A half-hearted glare was all Dawn gave before leaving the room, grabbing a hand towel on the way out the door.

Buffy came to stand beside Faith. Gazing the way her daughter had gone, she asked, "How'd she do?"

Glancing briefly at the eldest Slayer to see if the question was genuine, Faith responded, "Not bad. You sure she's never had training before this?"

Buffy shook her head, and answered, "Pretty sure. The only thing I can think is that she picked up some stuff from hanging around me. That, or Spike's been giving her pointers behind my back. They like hanging out together for some strange reason."

Faith gave a short amused laugh, and said, "Probably both. Also, there's Slayer instinct to think about. Us Slayers learn pretty fast when it comes to fighting."

Buffy nodded, and said in agreement, "Yeah."

"Even with all that to aid her, she has much still to learn," Adam commented as he walked over to the two Slayers, sword held so that it was point up behind his left shoulder.

"Ain't that the truth...for any of us," Faith said, before facing Buffy and asking, "You wanna help set up what I have planned next for D, B?"

Raising an eyebrow, Buffy asked wryly, "And what's that?"

Grinning, Faith answered, "Just some knife throwing. Nothing big."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Giles looked up from the box of herbs he was inventorying to see Dawn exit the training room and head outside at a quick pace. To his eyes, she looked like she had received a thorough workout with Faith, and from what little he had seen of them sparring, he knew it to be true.

Putting the box he held down when Dawn reentered the shop with a backpack over one shoulder, the Watcher inquired, "You are done for the day?"

Neither noticed the door closing slower than normal as the young Slayer shook her head, changed course direction, and came towards him. She replied once she was standing beside him, "Nah. Just needed to get something for what I'm doing next."

"And that would be," Giles asked of both the item and activity.

Anticipation lit the girl's eyes as she said with some excitement, "Faith's going to teach me how to use the knife she gave me yesterday." She then paused, looked at him consideringly, and made a gesture towards the training room, and asked, "You wanna come and watch?"

Giles internally winced as he took off his glasses and began polishing them; images of all that could go wrong with the activity just described flashing through his mind. He decided, then, that it _might_ be a good idea to oversee this exercise...supernatural beings or not _something_ could happen!

The Watcher nodded and said in response to the young Slayer's request, "Perhaps I will. I just need to put the Out to Lunch sign up, and I'll be in there."

Dawn grinned widely in pleasure, her expression blinding in its rarity, before practically skipping to the training room. Shaking his head in bemusement, Giles went to do as he had said he would.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The first thing he saw upon entering the training room were Faith and Dawn, their heads almost touching as they quietly talked where they stood together. The older Slayer was pointing to various places on the knife she held, obviously explaining what each part of the weapon could accomplish to the younger.

Seeing that those two were preoccupied to the point where he shouldn't interrupt them, Giles viewed the rest of the room, and saw Buffy putting up a target on the wall farthest from the other Slayers. There was a frown on her face, and he decided that it was best if he did not disturb her. Looking further, he saw that he was not the only one watching the room.

The Immortal stood off to one side of Buffy, arms folded before him, his expression indulgent. It was a look that clearly said that he was only a spectator in all this as he gazed at the various Slayers.

As Giles came to stand by Adam, he asked, "How did the sparring go?"

Adam glanced at him, before answering, "She has a solid understanding of the basic forms, and a rather ingenious method of combining various moves when needed. Whoever taught her should be commended."

Giles adjusted his glasses, and said, "Ah, that would be primarily Angel...with I and Buffy's previous Watcher giving her some understanding of the sword. The rest is purely her."

"So I noticed," the Immortal agreed. "She has a great deal of raw talent, and is well on her way to controlling it. From what I've been able to glean about her before coming here, that ability, coupled with her Slayer duties, has made her quite the formidable foe...and kept her alive."

The Watcher nodded, not too surprised with Adam's assessment. He _was_ startled, though, by the Immortal's next comment.

"Dawn, though she looks to equal her mother's skill level, will most likely go beyond Buffy's capabilities...given time."

"What makes you say that," Giles asked, his curiosity piqued by what this particular Immortal would have to say.

Tilting his head to the side in contemplation, before turning memory leaden eyes on the Watcher, Adam answered, "In my life, I've trained and watched over Slayers, and no, I will not tell you how many. Each one had areas where they excelled, but it was always where they were weak that was their downfall. Buffy, she is aware of where she is not as skilled, and can adequately compensate when needed. Dawn, from what I've seen of her, knows where she is weak, and seeks to push through and make it a strength instead. In other words, Buffy is complacent with where she is, while Dawn is not. This will eventually show which is the better Slayer, as it were."

Giles nodded his understanding and agreement, then looked over at Faith as the Slayer called, "Yo, B, ya ready on your end, 'cause we are?"

All watched as the eldest Slayer made one last adjustment, stepped well away from the target, and said with a decisive nod, "Go ahead."

Faith nodded back, before turning to Dawn. The teenager looked nervous, but determined as she fiddled with the knife in her hands. Her tone soothing, yet instructional, the middle Slayer said, "Now, remember what I said: don't push it. Let it come naturally, and you'll be fine."

Dawn nodded jerkily, and eyed the target as if afraid it would move suddenly. Slowly raising the knife with a look of concentration, she then threw it swiftly. The knife imbedded itself into the target...an inch away from the upper-right edge.

After a pause and shake of her head, Faith said somewhat sternly, "What'd I tell ya?" She caught the knife Buffy tossed her and held it by the hilt, the blade resting along her forearm. Extending her arm to offer the weapon to Dawn, she ordered, "Take a deep breath, think about your target, relax, and when you're ready: throw it."

Nodding with a frown, Dawn closed her eyes. Slowly taking the required breath, she held it a moment, then just as slowly released it. The youngest Slayer's shoulders relaxed on the second breath, and on the third, she extended her hand for her knife. Faith placed the hilt in Dawn's hand, and the teen firmly wrapped her fingers around it. Dawn opened her eyes. There was a look in the blue depths that caused a shiver to run down one's spine, before she turned suddenly ninety degrees, and threw the blade.

Just before the knife reached the wall, there was a sharp cry of alarm, followed by a bone-jarring thud as the weapon slid firmly into the wall at roughly shoulder height on the average man.

Stunned silence fell, before a conglomeration of voices filled the air. Above them all rose Faith's voice as she yelled, _"What the hell, D?"_

Everyone seemed to agree with that question, and quieted to hear the young Slayer's response.

Dawn fidgeted, before saying somewhat defensively, "Well, I did what you said, and when I was calm enough, I sensed something wrong over there. When I felt that, I just knew I needed to throw the knife that way. And, anyway, shouldn't we be worrying about what I caught and not how?"

This galvanized people into action, as Giles quickly made his way into the shop to find what he needed to make the invisible visible. Faith and Buffy went to stand intimidatingly in front of whoever it was that had been captured, Dawn hovering apprehensively behind them. All three could hear and see the effort their "guest" was making trying to get the knife loose to escape.

The Immortal had a different method of ensuring their prisoner stayed put, as he went to stand near the wall and raised his sword. He rested the weapon on top of the knife hilt—though it did not lay on it, before moving the blade back slowly until it would go no further. Once that was done, Adam commanded in a dangerous tone that promised pain or even possibly death if not followed, _"Be still."_

Almost immediately, there was a sharply drawn breath from the unseen person, followed by the sword blade landing solidly down onto the hilt of the still embedded knife.

All were silent and still after that as they listened to Giles moving around the shop. After what felt like hours to some of the occupants in the training room, they heard Giles exclaim in triumph, _"Aha!"_

A minute later, their "guest" was revealed, and the crystal dragons shrilled loudly, smoke blowing from their mouths, as their bodies glowed an angry blood red. A quick cry of _"finite"_ silenced the statues, as Giles hurried back into the training room, his expression cross.

No one seemed able to speak as they all stared at the one revealed, who starred angrily back at them. It was finally Adam who broke the stalemate by saying in disgust, "Quentin Travers," before removing his sword from the man's throat, and re-sheathing the weapon.

What Buffy said next pretty much summed up the thoughts and feelings of the others, as she said bitterly, "Well, there goes _that_ plan."

Faith snorted, before reaching over and pulling the knife out of the wall with a sharp jerk. The Head Watcher could not hide a flinch as she did this, which caused the middle Slayer to smirk before handing the knife to Dawn. The youngest took the weapon, her expression clearly stating that she wanted to use it somewhere _else_ on the man before her.

Giles, with what could be called a growl, reached decisively up, took off his glasses, and placed them in his shirt pocket. Stepping forward, he placed a hand on Buffy's shoulder, and firmly-yet-gently moved her out of his way. A dark glance in Faith's direction caused the reformed Slayer to retreat to where Dawn and Buffy now stood together.

Glaring, the resident Watcher said, "You couldn't leave well enough alone. What was your plan? What did you hope to accomplish here?"

"What I had planned doesn't matter. What matters is you dared to fabricate your reports _again_, Rupert," Quentin snapped furiously. Pointing an accusing finger at Buffy, he asked, "Why did you lie and report her dead, when she is clearly standing here _alive?"_

"Because she _did_ die," Adam stated quietly, causing Quentin's attention to snap to him. "She is Immortal. It is the reason I am here."

Teeth clenched, the Head of the Watchers Council declared succinctly, "That's not possible. The spell that created the first Slayer would make sure of that!"

Buffy scoffed at those words, before saying scathingly, "Oh, I'm sure it did! What better way to control the Slayer than to make sure she never gets old enough to realize that you don't have her best interests at heart, huh? You must absolutely _hate_ how women are finding that they can think for themselves and choose what they want to do in their lives in this day and age! _Newsflash_, Quentin: we're not your slave, and we won't be treated like one. Get with the program and change with the times! Your organization will soon find yourself without a Slayer if you don't."

Eyes shimmering with fury, Quentin gave forth a short and harsh laugh. In a near mocking tone, he said, "Oh, really? The Watchers Council knows how to kill an Immortal just as well as you do. You aren't invincible. Remember that. As for not having any Slayer, I see three right before me. As for _that_: I'd dearly love to know how you kept your sister from being detected at her activation! Was it your witch friends? If it were, I'd love to recruit them. And if they refuse, they'd just be unnecessaries that should be gotten rid of before they cause further harm with their _good intentions!"_

A wordless cry of fury escaped Buffy, before she lunged towards Quentin. The two Slayers on either side of her quickly grabbed her to keep her from her goal, their expressions clearly stating how much they wanted to let the elder Slayer attain what she wanted. At the same exact moment, Giles reared back and punched Quentin square in the face. The Head Watcher staggered back from the force of the blow, and fell to the floor when he stumbled over Adam's foot..., which happened to suddenly be in the way.

Just as the three Slayers fell to the floor in a tangled heap and Quentin began cursing as he held his nose, a male voice bellowed at the top of his lungs, _"THAT IS ENOUGH!"_

Everyone froze, and turned their attention to the one who had spoken to see the Head Messenger for the Powers That Be glaring at them all. Whistler stepped further into the room, and growled out, "I swear that dealing with you lot is worse than dealing with the Powers sometimes! Act like the Champions you are, people! You are _better_ than this!"

With those words spoken, the demon crossed his arms and watched as Buffy and Dawn quickly scrambled to their feet, both breathing heavily, their ire still up despite their efforts to calm themselves. They immediately pulled Faith up as well at the Messenger's pointed look. Giles rubbed his knuckles while glowering, and Adam merely leaned one shoulder against the wall, eyebrow raised in silent challenge.

Quentin remained on the floor, trying to stave off the nosebleed he had, quietly gloating at the chewing out he expected the others to get. Therefore, he was shocked to suddenly find himself on the receiving end of the said lecturing, when Whistler snarled while glaring solely at him, "And _you_ have gone too far!"

"_What?_ I'm the one wronged here," Quentin exclaimed.

"Like hell you are," Buffy snapped. "You're the one that's throwing threats around!"

This finally motivated the Head Watcher to his feet as he spat out, "Only because of the actions of those here! If you behaved like a proper Slayer, I wouldn't have to resort to such maneuvers. As it is, we now need to report that you are still active, and that your sister is a Slayer as well. Don't you even _begin_ to comprehend the amount of paperwork that must now be done because of this?"

"_You leave Dawn out of this,"_ Buffy retorted, just as Whistler stepped between the two and shoved them apart.

The demon glared fully at the eldest Slayer until she stepped back and Dawn latched herself forcefully onto her, before turning around and laying said glare on Quentin. In very clipped tones, he said, "Buffy and Dawn Summers are no longer the concern of the Watchers Council. The Powers That Be have personally claimed them as Their Champions..._Their_ Slayers. That is the reason your group did not recognize Dawn's activation. As for Faith, she is still your Slayer, but if you abuse or 'unintentionally' cause her or her successors any undue harm, your people will quickly learn what having the wrath of a god aimed at you means."

Silence descended, as all watched as Quentin Travers shook with the force of his rage and impotent fury. Jaw firmly clenched, and lips barely moving, he hissed out before storming out of the shop in his wounded dignity and pride, _"This is not over."_

* * *

**Next Part:** Hehehe! The shit hits the fan. (**smirk**)  
**Part Finished:** 2/14/08 - Happy Valentine's Day!


	9. Part 26: The Crap Hits the Fan

**Immortality's Gift (**_**The Alternate Version**_**)**

**Apologies:** Sorry this one's taken so long to get written. The Muses and Real Life just would _not_ cooperate!

**A/N:** A slight warning on this part! It is a bit more graphic than I normally write in one or two sections, but it was the only way to get across what was needed. That's all I'm saying.

**Dedication:** This part goes out to Zantac the Barbarian for the reminder that I still have dedicated fans out there waiting for me to finish this story. A special thanks as well to all of you whom favorited, noticed, or reviewed this or any of my other stories during this last stretch of inactivity. You have no idea how happy those made me to unexpectedly see them in my email inbox. Thank you!

**Music Recommendation**: Heh, yeah, whenever you read the parts with CassRia, I recommend you listen to S.J. Tucker's song "Snake Star Song." It'll really set the mood.

* * *

**Part 26: The S**t Hits the Fan**

It was three in the afternoon on the outskirts of Sunnydale, when a strange occurrence for those not aware of the supernatural happened.

In front of the sign that read "Welcome To Sunnydale," the air suddenly rippled before stretching and expanding until a man-sized hole had opened. Through this hole could be seen a forested glade and a small old-world cottage, before a strange-looking woman stepped through the opening, arm stiffly extended before her. As the portal closed behind her and the area returned to its normal state, the woman staggered unexpectedly, her skin and eyes changing from blue to brown and back almost too swiftly for the human eye to catch.

As Illyria straightened back up, she growled lowly, then snapped out to no one, "You will not have control that easily, Immortal!"

Cassandra's shock was evident as she protested from within their body, _"I didn't do anything!"_

"A likely story," the demon sneered while she stepped on and over the sign in front of her as though it were not even there.

As they followed the road into Sunnydale, Cassandra said, _"It is most likely that our body is still adjusting."_

"There is nothing to adjust to," Illyria stated coldly. "That which was used to make my return possible would not allow for such error."

"_Really?"_ Cassandra commented dryly. _"Then explain to me why this body is still alive and working, when it should be dead and hollow?"_

Silence was the demon's only response as they continued towards the town.

Just as they were reaching the first buildings, the Immortal suggested to the Old One, _"It might be a good idea to disguise yourself before anyone sees you. We do stand out in our current appearance, and if we wish to catch Methos unawares, we'll need to blend in better."_

Illyria stopped in her tracks, a look of supreme annoyance on her face, as she stated then snapped out loud, _"I grow weary of your chatter, Immortal._ Cease speaking!"

There was a moment of silence before Cassandra responded in irritation, _"I'm just trying to help! The more human we look, the easier it will be to find him. We'll be able to hide our true nature better, and will be able to catch Methos before he realizes that someone is searching for him."_

Expression cross, Illyria stood still while the armor-like bodysuit she wore morphed into a blue low-cut blouse, dark blue jeans and sensible walking shoes. Simple but elegant jewelry appeared about her neck and wrists. Her skin then returned to a normal human coloring, as did her eyes. The blue streaks remained in their hair.

"Do you find this satisfactory, Immortal," the demon snarled.

Knowing this was as close as she was going to get on her counterpart cooperating, Cassandra answered simply, _"Yes."_

"_Good."_

With that one word, the reborn Old One stalked further into town. Silence reigned between them.

They had just entered the beginnings of the warehouse district in Sunnydale when they faintly heard voices ahead. Following the sound, they soon found themselves walking in a labyrinth of warehouses...a familiar thing for one such as Cassandra. As they walked, the voices became clearer; and from what the Immortal heard, it seemed as though they had stumbled upon a meeting of one of the gangs in town planning to ambush another gang. As she realized this, she only had one thought in her mind, _This could go very badly._

Little did she know how right her thought was.

Minutes later, they stepped into a clearing between warehouses where a building had once been, and stopped walking. The smell of ash was faint in the area, even to their senses. A quick surveillance showed about thirty people grouped together in the corner farthest from them, deep shadows from the nearby buildings covering the group. Their predominantly red clothing kept them visible, though.

By this time, one of the gang that seemed on lookout spotted them, and whistled, before saying, "Yo, look at this fox! Looks like she's stepped onto the wrong side of town. What do ya think, should we have some fun with her?"

Most of the group looked up and over to the Immortal Old One at those words. Illyria tilted their head to one side, and said in a voice that projected to the gang easily, "I seek the location of someone. You will tell me where he is."

"We won't tell you anything, fox or not," a voice shouted from near the back of the group. "You're not one of us!"

The reborn Old One's eyes narrowed in displeasure, and demanded as she slowly began to stalk forward, "You _will_ tell me where the Immortal called Methos is, and you shall do so now!"

The gang had cleared a path between the one whom had last spoken and the demon, revealing to Illyria's senses that the man was a vampire. The vampire sneered at them as they came level with the group and said scornfully, "You purposefully bein' stupid, bitch, or were you born that way? We ain't answerin' nothin'! Now you better show us proper respect, or we'll paint ya our color in your own blood."

By this time, Illyria had reached the vampire. Her eyes were cold as she stared at the man, causing him to shift minutely in sudden unease. In the next moment, her hand shot out and wrapped around the vampire's throat, before lifting him up to hang in the air by said appendage.

In a voice that was as deadly as it was matter-of-fact, Illyria stated as her eyes slowly began to turn blue, "I do not take orders from half-breeds."

The sound of many guns cocking could be heard in the sudden silence. For several tense seconds, no one moved.

Before anyone could react, Illyria whirled around in a circle and _threw_ the vampire in her hand out into the center of the vacant lot where the bright sunlight shone down unhindered. Quickly scrambling to his feet, the man stared frantically about himself, looking for the quickest route to shadow, and swore.

"_Fuck!"_

Starting to smoke, he ran towards his fellow gang members. Before he could reach them, flames consumed him. Prior to him becoming nothing but ash, he shouted, _"Kill the bitch!"_

The dust had not even settled when they opened fire.

The first few bullets struck Illyria, causing her to twitch in irritation. The next few caused her to snarl in annoyance. The ninth she caught in her hand to gaze at it. As the fifteenth bullet attempted to pierce her eye, she growled low in her throat, and began to take an active part in her supposed destruction.

The growl became a roar as the Old One thrust out her hands to either side of her, the air suddenly rippling all around her as the gang seemed to suddenly be moving in extreme slow-motion, the bullets now visible as they inched through the air.

Moving to get out of the way of more bullets, and knocking others away with her arms, Illyria grabbed two of her foes in this moment, and threw them over her shoulders. The fight would be over before they would strike the ground hard enough to shatter their arms, legs, and hips on one side and break half their ribs. They would later commit suicide, rather than live with the pain of their injuries.

Stepping into the crowd, the Old One dropped to the ground and swept her leg out and around her, breaking the lower legs of those whom she struck. They would always walk with limps after they healed. Those eight would be the lucky ones.

Rising once more to her feet, she stepped through her defeated foes to reach out and grasp the guns of the two before her. She crushed the guns and the hands holding them before moving on. The doctors that operated on them would find it impossible to separate the metal from flesh and resort to amputation later.

The next four would soon find themselves sailing backwards in the air to suddenly slam into the warehouses behind them. They would be unconscious for three months from the concussions they received, and all but one would be wheelchair-bound for the rest of their lives. The one who wasn't would become mentally impaired from the trauma to his brain. As Illyria stepped out of the circle of gang members, time resumed at a normal pace.

Bullets pierced flesh, killing four and incapacitating seven. Only one remained standing unharmed.

That one stood rooted in place as he watched Illyria slowly turn around to survey the destruction she had taken part in. As she did this, he slowly lowered his gun with a shaking hand, the lone gang member's breath heaving with adrenalin and shock. She then looked at him with inhuman eyes.

His gun had not even touched the ground when he turned and ran. He did not hear the scornful words said by Illyria over the pounding of his blood as he fled.

"You dare think to escape me?"

Just as he reached the entrance to one of the warehouses, the man found himself flat on the ground; face first, with a foot planted firmly on his back. His nose was broken and beginning to bleed profusely from the force of his landing. He could barely breathe from the pressure upon his back. From above, the man heard a variation of the question which had started this whole mess.

"Where is the Immortal Methos?"

Scrabbling at the ground in a vain hope of finding something to help him out of this situation, he gasped out, "Don't...know!"

Just as his hand clamped around a jagged rock and hope filled his wildly beating heart, a feminine hand grabbed the arm attached to that hand and with casual ease yanked his arm back. The snapping of bone was easily heard over his choked scream. The pressure on his back grew intolerable as Illyria hissed out, "You lie!"

Shaking from the beginning stages of shock, ribs cracking and breaking, he screamed out, _"Not!"_

The release of weight was so sudden that all he had time for was a sharp gasp of painful air, before finding himself upright and face-to-face with the reborn Old One. Their eyes locked, and he froze, all thoughts of struggling and freeing himself gone.

The weight of untold eons of life lived glimmered darkly within her gaze as she declared, "Then I have no further use for you, muck."

With those words, the demon released her prey, watching indifferently as he fell to the ground in an agonized heap, before turning and leaving just as the sound of sirens became audible to the conscious injured.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"We've got to find some way to rein him in, or he's going to cause all sorts of trouble," Angel said as he leaned back in his seat at the research table at the Magic Box, while Buffy rested her head on his shoulder from her seat beside him. Those within the shop had just finished explaining to the souled vampire what had just happened about an hour ago with Quentin Travers, and to say he was not happy was an understatement.

"The problem is that Quentin's so full of himself, that even if we bring him down a peg or two, it won't change anything," Methos said almost absently from where he was hunched over his laptop, as Dawn watched and read over his shoulder in avid interest as he searched the internet for what he wanted to know. A hand rested on his left shoulder where she leaned over the Immortal, neither seemed to notice.

Giles came down the steps from the second level, a book in hand, as he said, "The difficulty with Travers is that he has a long memory, and that no matter what we do, he will take offense from it. He will then do what he can to make our lives more difficult than what it already is."

"No kidding," Faith muttered from where she sat opposite the others, her feet resting on the table as she leaned her chair back at an angle. A small knife was in her hand that she was using to clean her fingernails.

"Why don't we just tell him to leave," Dawn asked as she straightened up and took a seat beside Methos, before adding, "All the reasons for him sticking around are gone. There's no Immortal or demon wanting to open the Hellmouth, and there's a Slayer here to cover any troubles."

"_Our_ reasons might be done, but whatever _his_ are aren't," Buffy contributed morosely.

"Then we'll just have to convince him staying isn't worth it," Dawn said stubbornly with some exasperation. "Come on, Buffy! Where's the Slayer that told the whole Council to go take a hike the last time they were here, huh? According to Whistler we're no longer a part of that group, and we just need to make sure that they don't take their frustrations out on Faith because of it."

As Buffy gawked at her daughter in shock and anger, Faith snorted, before saying as her chair shifted into an upright position as she put her feet on the floor and sheathed her knife, "The brat's right, B. You're acting like your favorite pet got run over and died. Where's the Slayer that wouldn't take 'no' for an answer? That man respects positions of power over actions. Show him that you're more powerful than him and won't take his crap, and he'll back off."

As Buffy sat ramrod straight in her seat, sputtering in affronted protest, Angel sighed, and said, "We're starting to talk in circles here. Why don't we leave this alone. Knowing our luck, the solution will just jump into our laps when we're least expecting it."

"As much as I may wish not to, I must agree with Angel," Giles said as he placed his book down on the table by Dawn, where she eagerly scooped it up. "Travers, in the long run, is nothing more than a nuisance, and should be treated accordingly. He knows, even if he will not accept it, who is truly in charge here. In the end, he'll leave, knowing there's nothing for him to do. We just need to endure his presence until then."

"Nice speech, Giles," Willow said with faint humor, causing the others to turn and look at the wicca, to see her and Tara now standing behind Giles.

Taking off his glasses and wiping them, the Watcher stuttered out, "W-willow, I assume that your presence means that you've adjusted the wards, then?"

Tara nodded, as Willow said chirpily, before adding with some exasperation, then calmly, "Yep! Although, we didn't quite appreciate having to do those wards twice in one day. That was a little bit draining. I guess we should be glad that we thought of how to change them _before_ we put them up the first time."

"Something that we do appreciate, ladies," Methos commented as he leaned back in his seat while folding his arms in front of him. "Out of curiosity, what did you do to the wards?"

Willow looked at Giles, and asked curiously, "You didn't tell them?"

The Watcher shook his head, then answered while putting his glasses back on, "I haven't had the opportunity yet."

"What're you guys talking about," Buffy inquired.

"When Tara and I were designing the wards, we thought it might be a good idea to make it possible for us to change who or _what_ might activate them," Willow explained as she pushed a few strands of hair behind an ear. "That way, we could include and exclude people as needed as well as how they reacted to certain things."

"Like Spike," Tara added quietly. "The wards sense the aura, intent, and emotions of those in its range. If a certain combination of those three are reached in a person, then they'll be considered a danger and we'll be alerted. If a person only matches one or two of those three, they'll be a lesser threat. In objects, it'll detect its aura and how it's used. But, as I was saying, Spike'll always be considered a mild threat, unless he truly means us harm, then the ward'll trigger." She gestured to the silent and softly glowing red crystal dragon on the bookshelf overhead. "You can already see they're working by how they're reacting to Angel's presence."

As everyone looked at the statue, Methos said, "I assume, then, that were we in true danger, that they would act like they did when Quentin was here."

Tara nodded agreement.

"Yeah," Willow interjected, "and it'll cause a red glow to appear around the danger to those who need to see it. We're also working on placing the wards on something that can be worn for personal safety. We've had too much stuff happen to us not to do that. We haven't gotten there yet, but we were able to link the fixed wards to a wearable item to warn of danger in that spot. You'll also know who the danger is, too, and how much of a threat, which is a lot more detailed than the general warning you'd normally get."

Tara pulled a simple hemp bracelet out of one of the pockets in her skirt, and handed it to Giles, explaining, "This one's linked to the shop."

The Watcher nodded as he took the bracelet and slipped it on. A moment later, his eyebrows rose in startlement, then he frowned as he glanced at Angel, before leveling his gaze on Methos.

Making a What-Can-You-Expect gesture with his hands, the ancient Immortal said deprecatingly, "Think of what you know of my past, Watcher, before you say anything."

Giles' frown turned into a scowl for a second, then he reluctantly nodded agreement, before remarking as he glanced at everyone, "I find it interesting that we are all registering to some extent to the wards."

"Even me," Dawn asked, surprised.

The Watcher nodded, causing the teenager to glare at nothing in particular.

"Think about your own history, Dawnie," Buffy commented dryly, "and you'll realize how crazy that question was."

The youngest Slayer's glare went to the eldest Slayer for that comment. After a pause, she shook her head, and said grumpily, "As much _fun_ as we're having here, is there anything we really need to talk about? If not, I wanna go home and eat. I'm starving."

The two older Slayers looked at each other at that comment knowingly. They understood exactly what the younger girl was implying and hadn't even realized yet about being a Slayer.

Willow bore a startled expression for a moment, before saying in answer to the previous question, "Oh! Yeah, there is." She ignored Dawn's groan, and continued. "Before we started working on the wards at our place, a special report came on the news...just after your call Giles. Anyway, in the old warehouse district where one of the buildings had burned down a few years back, one of the gangs in town got into a gunfight with themselves it looks like, but not. They had injuries that the police officer they were interviewing couldn't _begin_ explaining. Just as they were about to sign off, one of the gang members was carried by raving about someone that he didn't see moving and shoulda been dead from all the bullets they used. The officer told them to shut off the camera at that point or be arrested for interference of an investigation."

A tense and uneasy silence descended after that.

"A demon," Dawn asked hesitantly.

"What demon's immune to bullets, though," Faith inquired.

"A demon with magic," was Buffy's tentative reply.

"No," Methos corrected, "demons that use magic will rely on magic before strength, and what Willow's describing is someone who used brute force and incredible speed, and apparently has a very hard exterior or able to withstand excessive amounts of pain."

"Great, so the Superman of demons," Dawn muttered while slouching in her seat.

"But even Superman had weaknesses," Willow inputted. Off of everyone's looks, she shrugged a shoulder and said with no embarrassment, "What? About the only thing as a kid I could get Xander to read were comics."

"The real question we should be asking," Tara pointed out quietly, "is if this demon is really a threat. For all we know, the only reason this demon attacked them was through a misunderstanding."

"Pretty big whopping misunderstanding, if you ask me," Faith scoffed, earning a glare from Willow.

"Tara's correct," Giles interjected while busily wiping his glasses once more. "Unless something else happens, we should be cautiously hopeful that this demon will do nothing else and go on its way to wherever it needs to be."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Tara entered the Starbucks in town, her mind not really focused on what she was doing as she attempted to concentrate on keeping her aura reading ability from overwhelming her. It had been just under two weeks since she had been freed from the Glory-induced insanity, and only a week within that time since she started associating with people that weren't Willow again. It was hard, and she was having to rebuild her protections around that ability once more. They were not yet where they should be, but with her lover's help, she was getting there.

It did not help, though, when whenever she looked at someone, she Saw more than she was used to when her defenses were at full strength...specially with those that she associated with _and_ were supernatural. Adam Pierson was a good example of this. She had never encountered an aura of such complexity and power. Ancient, he most assuredly was, yet the most "grey" of any person she'd met so far. Even Giles paled in comparison. She could only assume that he had been both good and evil in his time. And considering how Whistler interacted with him, he was on the side of good right now.

Then there was Angel. A more tortured entity than any she had ever heard of, an Archangel and Old One in one, forever bound to his current existence. She only hoped that he would know true peace someday. From what she knew and heard about his past, he deserved a respite.

With a pang of guilt, she then considered Dawn. She who was the Key, a Slayer, and pre-Immortal according to Adam and Buffy. She understood that it was through her being the Key that she sensed such power in the girl, and through the Slayer the primeval essence of that being. It was no wonder Dawn would have such wild and powerful mood swings at times. Her unconscious side knew _exactly_ what she was and was trying to push that knowledge into the conscious realm. Tara had the feeling that that wouldn't happen until all the aspects of what she was were awakened. Gaia help the world when that time came!

The wiccan felt a headache coming on from thinking about all this. At least, she _hoped_ it was from just thinking, and not something worse. It would be just her luck if it wasn't.

She shook her head to dispel such thoughts, knowing that if she dwelt on it much longer she would backslide. Instead, she thought of why she was here.

After the meeting at the Magic Box had ended, Willow had decided that she wanted to take one more look at the wards to see if there was anything else she could do with them, and Tara had decided to go do homework. She did not feel up to looking into magical matters again that day...which led her to now: waiting in line at Starbucks to get some caffeine into her system so that she didn't fall asleep. She usually despised coffee, preferring fruit drinks, but those spells earlier today had drained her far more than she expected.

Yawning, she placed her order with the cashier and paid for her drink, before turning away from the counter to wait for it to be filled. As she did this, her headache spiked further, causing her to wince and raise a hand to her head. Blinking her eyes as she glanced around in puzzlement, she wondered what had caused that as her brow furrowed, before feeling a pull in a particular direction.

Placing a hand on the back of a chair occupied by someone to steady herself, Tara looked through the window of the shop to outside, and saw a woman across the street dressed in blue staring at her. The aura she saw was vile, a neutral soul gorged on the essence of evil.

She swallowed, feeling her face pale as her eyes dilated in shock. Her protections suddenly, uncomfortably, felt stretched, straining against their boundaries.

Even as she stared, she could see the evil stirring within the woman, reaching past the soul, and taking control as the soul retreated _into_ the evil. She shuddered as acid-blue eyes now gazed at her. The evil reached out a tendril to her. She recoiled in horror, but found herself unable to avoid it. Stumbling over a chair that someone had just left, she heard snarled within her mind in hatred and loathing, _"Essence Reader!"_ The power and emotion of that voice was too much for her already weakened defenses.

Her shields strained beyond the point of baring shattered.

She crashed to the floor as she felt the control she exerted over her body slip away once more. Was aware as those around her scrambled to either help her or get out of the way. Felt and saw as hands held her down as she arched her back against their touch, and heard herself _screaming_ from the overload of information they unknowingly gave her. Tears fell down her face as someone shouted for an ambulance, knowing it would do no good.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"I shouldn't've left her alone. I knew her defenses weren't that great yet."

Buffy tightened the arm she had around Willow's shoulders for a moment, and said soothingly to the teary-eyed, red haired witch, "You couldn't've known what would happen, Willow. We all thought she was back to normal."

After wiping her eyes and blowing her nose, Willow mumbled, "She wasn't," before a look of resolve came upon her face, and she straightened up in her seat, pulling away from her best friend as she did so. Drawing in a steadying breath, she explained, "We'd been reinforcing what protections Tara had around her mind after what happened with Glory, but it'd only been half done at this point. It was enough for her to function like normal...as long as she was careful."

"If you knew this," Giles inquired from where he stood in the doorway, "why did you leave her alone?"

Willow grimaced, then answered, "Because I thought she'd stay in the apartment until I got back. I didn't realize how tired she was if she went to Starbucks. She hates coffee."

"We know she kinda lost it," Dawn said with a wince of apology, "but do you know why?"

"Indeed," Giles concurred.

Willow glanced nervously over to the furthest corner of the living room in the Summers' home to where Quentin sat, before looking at Giles. Her eyes practically pled for him not to get angry, as she answered Dawn, saying, "Yeah, I do...or at least _most_ of it. You see, while I was helping Tara, she asked me to place a failsafe in her mind so that if this happened again, she'll still be able to talk to me. Anyway, because of this, I was kinda able to learn what happened. She basically Saw something that overwhelmed her completely."

"That's all very well and good," Quentin interrupted impatiently, "but _what_ did the girl see?"

Willow became flustered as she answered, saying, "Well, I, uh, don't know _exactly_. That failsafe wasn't as clear as we'd hoped, images, words, and sounds kept getting distorted and switched around. But I was at least able to learn that the one Tara saw was female, and, and, ah...blue haired?"

"That doesn't tell us much," Buffy murmured in concern.

"I know," the wiccan said in agreement as she nodded quickly, before adding, "that's why I decided to see if that gang that got beat up might be able to tell me anything."

"_What?"_ yelped Buffy and Dawn simultaneously, while Giles admonished, "That was a very foolish thing to do, Willow."

"I'm aware of that, Giles," Willow said exasperatedly. "But I _was_ able to learn a little more. This demon's human-shaped and sized, was wearing blue clothing, and the Superman theory we were talking about earlier seems to be true."

"Did you find out why the demon attacked them," Dawn inquired curiously over her shock.

"Yeah, seems she was trying to find something, they wouldn't tell me what though," was the answer.

"Huh," was Dawn's response, as Buffy said, "We'll have to keep an eye out for this demon, then. With this attack on Tara, it's definitely a threat now."

"Oh, very good," Quentin scoffed. "Are you going to stop and accost every female in this town that has blue hair and clothes, then? There's quite a few people here that can fit that description!"

"Oh! Will you just _shut it_," Willow exclaimed angrily, her eye color darkening with every word as she stood up and faced the Head Watcher. "I've gotten _really_ tired of your constant putdowns and badgering! If you're here to help us, then _help us_. If not, then _leave us alone_. Better yet, just _leave!"_

An uneasy silence descended while all warily watched the angered wiccan. Power seemed to roll off of Willow, causing random items to begin to float into the air... Or perhaps not so random, as a particularly jagged edged sculpture rose up behind the woman and slowly turned 'til those edges were pointed at Quentin. Black eyes glared balefully into the Head Watchers' own eyes.

Slowly, with carefully controlled motions, Quentin Travers rose from his seat, a look of loathing on his face. Once standing straight and tall, he took his eyes off of the witch before him disdainfully, and stared with a look of vindication at Giles. His tone smug, the Head Watcher said, "This was what I was speaking to you about, Rupert. Your witches are hopelessly out of control in a city that reeks of evil...an evil that draws those with power. Be careful, or your Slayer will have to hunt them down like she does any other demon in this place."

Willow seemed to roar with her fury to the threat made as she thrust her hands out before her, just as Giles called out sharply, _"Willow!"_

In a moment that seemed to stretch out forever, Quentin found himself sailing backwards to slam into the wall behind him. At the same time, the statue with the jagged edges shot towards the Watcher...to impale itself just to the side of his head. Wild-eyed, he gazed at the statue before turning uneasy eyes onto Willow.

The black had completely encompassed the wiccan's eyes.

In a voice an octave lower than where it should be, the red head ground out, "You will not _touch_ her!"

In the tense silence that followed, Buffy rose quietly to her feet and stepped to Willow's side. In a soft yet firm voice, she said, "Put him down, Willow."

A snarl was her only response.

Sighing, the eldest Slayer asked as she put a hand on the other's shoulder, "Do you think Tara would want you to act like this?"

A sharp jerk of the head and a quickly drawn in breath, and then Quentin suddenly fell to crash in a heap into the chair he had originally been sitting in. The statue remained stuck in the wall.

In the stillness that followed, only muffled crying could be heard.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

It was hellishly late at night, or very early in the morning, depending on how you looked at the time, but to Dawn that didn't matter. All that she cared about was finding the one she searched for as she prowled the streets, cemeteries, and parks of Sunnydale. Of course, she was doing this without her parents' permission. They didn't even know she was out here, but _someone_ needed to tell Spike what was going on.

It had been fun to watch from her room as Quentin Travers skulked out of the house earlier, totally freaked out by what Willow had done. Oh, she had seen what happened when she had snuck downstairs when she heard the shouting and felt the sudden increase in power that could only come from the furious wiccan. She also knew that Buffy had called Adam to tell him the latest once the eldest Slayer had calmed the red head down. It was then that Dawn realized they had all forgotten about someone, which _really_ ticked her off.

She hadn't told anyone about her epiphany. How could she? They really didn't care about the soulless vampire like she did. He was her friend, confidant, and just fun to be around. He told it like it was, and didn't really care what others thought of him. She also knew he had a soft spot for her. She could see it in his eyes when he looked at her, the concern, worry, and fondness he hid from everyone else.

He was like a big brother to her, and she wanted to make sure he knew what had been going on the past couple of days since Quentin's arrival.

As she passed the gate to one of the parks that was cattycorner to a nearby cemetery, she saw the plaque that commemorated when this park had been dedicated and wondered what Adam had been doing at that time...or rather what _Methos_ had been doing then. She still didn't know much about him, and finding anything under that name was like looking for a needle in a haystack...a really _big_ haystack. She was coming to the sneaking suspicion that any reference the Immortal found of himself was either modified in some way, or obliterated.

It was frustrating the hell out of her, and she was about ready to break into the safe where Giles kept his Watcher journals and look there for information. Dawn just _knew_ Giles knew who Adam really was. It was kinda obvious with the way he reacted to some of the stuff the Immortal said or did.

Dawn sighed and shook her head to clear it of such thoughts as she entered the cemetery she had been coming up on. After passing a few rows of headstones, she stopped and frowned. Something didn't feel right, and her Slayer instincts were cautioning her to be more careful.

Now moving with a lighter step and wariness, Dawn thanked the Powers That Be for the better night vision and hearing that came with the Slayer package. She'd be jumping at the moving shadows and slightest noise otherwise. As she moved around a large sculpture, she froze, her instincts screaming.

Only a few feet in front of her stood a woman dressed in blue clothing with blue streaks in her dark brown hair. Blue also tinted parts of her skin, and impossibly bright blue eyes gazed at her. Swallowing thickly as the demon before her tilted her head to one side, the teenager took a step back.

In a voice devoid of all emotion, the one before Dawn spoke, stating matter-of-factly, "Your soul-shard is particularly strong for one not yet awakened, Immortal child."

The young Slayer took another step back, before asking in a shaky voice, "What?"

The woman blinked, her eyes changing from blue to gray within that motion, and explained in a more human sounding tone as the blue receded from her skin, "You will one day be Immortal, child, and counted among our kind."

Warily eyeing the woman, Dawn muttered sarcastically, "Well, that answers _that_," before asking in a normal voice level, "What the heck are you talking about? What's a soul-shard and what'd you mean _your_ kind," then concluded in angered accusation, _"You're_ the demon, not me!"

The demon's eyes instantly went from gray to blue, and Dawn suddenly found the other's hand around her throat. A moment later she was hanging in the air by said appendage. The demon then spoke in a voice an octave lower than before. A simmering fury could be heard as the woman snapped out, "I am no mere demon! _I am an Old One reborn_."

Before Dawn could truly register or comprehend that declaration, she found herself sailing through the air. She impacted with a tall headstone with enough force to break the marble in half...only for the top portion to fall heavily on her. Grunting as she shoved the ruined gravestone off of herself, Dawn fought the feeling of déjà vu she was getting, and prayed to whatever deity could hear that this wouldn't end up being another Glory fiasco.

As the teenager staggered to her feet, the demon observed, "You are more than a pre-Immortal. What are you? You're power is unlike any I've known."

Now firmly on her feet, Dawn answered with narrowed eyes, acting braver than she felt, "I'm a Slayer."

The eyes changed again as the woman said in a more human tone, "I've heard of your kind."

The young Slayer bared her teeth as she then stated, "Then you should know not to mess with me."

Gray eyes flared to blue once more as the demon said with a touch of anticipation, "We shall see. I have yet to see or find someone challenging enough for me."

Dawn gulped at those words, but knew that having gone this far, she couldn't back out without losing face, even to herself. With that thought in mind, the young Slayer threw the first punch, only to have it easily deflected. The return punch tossed her into another headstone, pulverizing it.

What followed was a game of cat and mouse throughout the entire cemetery...and Dawn was _not_ the cat.

A half hour later, Dawn lay sprawled on the ground in the middle of the demolished graveyard, more than ready to cry uncle. Blood, sweat, and other unmentionable things covered the Slayer as she lay there staring at the reborn Old One...who stood only a foot away without a scratch on her. What blood and other things that _were_ on the demon had come not by injury, but from being in close contact with Dawn.

In the lull that followed, and as the teenager struggled to get her breathing back to normal, she watched as the demon sniffed the air while frowning and looking about her. After a few moments, the woman turned now gray eyes on Dawn, and then knelt in front of the girl. The ever changing eyes gazed at her with a calm sort of intensity that unnerved the Slayer.

In a quite voice, the woman said almost hypnotically as she slowly reached a hand out to her, not quite touching, "You smell like him."

Not even daring to move, Dawn asked cautiously in a whisper, "Who?"

The answer was breathed out in an almost prayer-like quality, _"Methos."_

As Dawn's eyes widened in sudden realization, the woman's eyes changed color again. In the next moment the demon grabbed hold of the front of the Slayer's shirt and yanked the girl into an upright position. Their faces now only inches apart, the reborn Old One hissed out, _"Where is he?"_

Heart pounding a mile a minute, Dawn stuttered out in sudden terror, "I don't know anyone by that name!"

One of the teenager's arms was quickly pulled behind her back at an agonizing angle as the demon snarled out, "You lie. _Where is he?"_

Eyes swimming from the pain, Dawn gasped out, "Not here!"

The words had not finished leaving the Slayer's mouth when her shoulder was dislocated. The girl cried out as the demon brought the injured arm in front of the teenager, and demanded coldly, "Tell. Me. Where. He. Is."

Her breathes practically sobs, Dawn said, "Somewhere in the warehouse di—AH!"

The demon released the teenager's now broken wrist, and roared, "WHERE IS HE! We have been there and _he is not there!"_

Openly weeping as she attempted to curl into a protective ball, Dawn at last answered, saying brokenly, "He's in one of the hotels in town. I don't know which one."

The demon rose to her feet, at last satisfied with the answer given. Gazing down at Dawn, she tilted her had to one side, before saying, "Slayer."

The young Slayer turned pain filled eyes to warily gaze at the one above her. In the next moment she blacked out from the kick to the head she received from the demon.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

It was about 4:30 in the morning, and Spike was ticked. He had been watching a late night movie when he had had the uncomfortable feeling that he needed to be somewhere else...right _now_. So he had gotten up and stalked outside, making sure to grab a fresh pack of cigarettes on the way.

That had been half an hour ago and he now found himself on his last cigarette. He was passing one of the cemeteries in this god forsaken town, when something made him pause. He slowly turned until he was facing the graveyard, then hissed out a smoke-filled breath, shocked by what he saw. In the next moment he was vaulting over the fence and stumbling over the rubble to reach the prone and bloody figure on the ground.

"_DAWN"_ bellowed Spike frantically as he realized whom he had found.

Crashing to his knees, the vampire began checking for obvious wounds after seeing if the girl was alive or not. Once satisfied that the worst was her head and arm, Spike carefully-yet-firmly gripped the damaged arm above the elbow and gave a sharp jerk. The shoulder realigned itself instantly.

Dawn woke up with a cry, disoriented and dizzy. The vampire helped her sit up, murmuring nothing important to keep her from panicking or becoming frightened...as nothing was worse than having to deal with an injured Slayer in survival mode.

It seemed to work, as the teenager only looked around without comprehension to her surroundings.

Dawn shifted, and frowned down at her arm when she realized that Spike was holding said arm, and that her wrist looked kinda funny. Reaching over with her good hand, the girl pressed the misaligned pieces back into alignment with ease.

She did not even flinch from doing that.

Seeing this, Spike said decisively, "Right, you're going to the hospital," and picked Dawn up, carrying her bridal fashion.

As Spike stomped and kicked he way through the wrecked graveyard, Dawn mumbled, "Home," as she cradled her arm.

Still walking, the vampire replied, "Not happenin', love. You've got injuries and a concussion that they can't take care of, and if I came in the door with you like this, they'd stake me before thinking to ask how you got injured."

Dawn leaning her head on his shoulder was the only response Spike got for what he said.

* * *

**Next Part:** The aftermath of Dawn's encounter with CassRia, an unexpected visitor, and poor, poor Methos!  
**Part Finished:** 3/31/09

**A/N 2:** Anyone else getting sick of my one-year-long hiatuses in the middle of a story? Yeah. Me too. You've no idea the amount of guilt I feel when it happens!


	10. Part 27: Realizations

**Immortality's Gift (**_**The Alternate Version**_**)**

**Disclaimer:** Didn't think I'd be doing this (as I promised no OCs in this story), but: Doctor Athanor Rubedo is my creation (he just popped up, fully formed!). If you want to use him for a story of your own, go ahead, just let me know you have and where the story is so I can put a link to it on my personal website.

**A/N:** Just so you know, I'm now putting titles to each part, and have retro-done the others as well. Hope you like 'em! Also, I'm now keeping a log of my progress for this story on my bio page. Look there periodically to know how I'm doing.

**Part 27: Realizations**

"About bloody time," Spike quietly exclaimed from his seat beside the sleeping Dawn in her hospital room, which thankfully had no other patient in it but the young Slayer. "What took you lot so long?"

Methos had just walked into the room with Giles. They had been following Buffy and Angel, whom had been anxious to get to their daughter for the past four hours. Thus, the Immortal watched in faint amusement as the souled vampire glared at the other vampire as Buffy answered in exasperation, saying, "We'd have been here sooner, but Child Services got a hold of us and kept asking us question after question, and wouldn't let us come see Dawn! I was about ready to _punch_ one of them," was the finishing sentence, which came out in a near growl.

There was a momentary pause as everyone looked at the elder Slayer for the sheer vehemence in her voice, before Angel asked Spike, "How is she?"

"Sleeping at the moment," the younger vampire answered bluntly. "She took quite a beating by whatever got a hold of her. The cemetery I found her in was nothing but rubble." Spike's tone then became angry and demanding as he said, "Speaking of which: What the bloody 'ell was she doing out there at that time of night with _no one watching her?"_

"We didn't know she was out there," Buffy snapped back. "We thought she was in bed!"

"Well, then, maybe you should've been keeping a closer eye on her, or were you too busy shagging Peaches to notice anything else? I could smell the sex on you two before you even stepped in here," Spike sneered.

"You _bastard,"_ Buffy shrieked as she lunged towards the soulless vampire. But before she could reach him, Methos and Angel simultaneously locked their arms around the Slayer and held her back.

Spike merely gave the eldest Slayer the British two-fingered salute in response.

Methos shook his head at that, and grimaced as he lost his grip. As he quietly cursed while Buffy struggled against Angel's vice-like hold and avoided him grabbing her again, the Immortal heard a voice mumble painfully, "Will you guys keep it down? I don't feel too good here."

Everyone immediately stopped what they were doing, before scrambling to stand around Dawn's bed. As Methos settled at the foot of the bed, he noticed that the girl's eyes were just barely open, which said to his medical trained eyes that she had to be in considerable pain. Either that or she was faking it pretty convincingly. He thought it was a bit of both, considering she's a Slayer, but was badly injured by a powerful demon from what he understood from the phone call he had received earlier. Either way, a good dose of painkiller would no doubt help.

Giles had just asked Dawn from where he stood to one side of the young Slayer how she felt, when there was a discreet cough and knock at the doorway to the room. Everyone turned to see a man in his mid-fifties that looked like he was descended from those who came from the Middle East wearing a doctor's outfit. With a genial nod, he spoke as he stepped fully into the room, "Hello, my name's Doctor Athanor Rubedo. I am Ms. Summers' primary doctor at this time. I was just told that Ms. Summers' family was finally allowed to come. Who here is Mr. and Mrs. Summers?"

"That'd be us," Buffy answered from where she sat on the end of Dawn's bed as she gestured to herself and Angel, who stood beside her.

Smiling, Dr. Rubedo shook their hands while saying, "A pleasure to meet you." He then looked beyond them to Dawn, and commented, then asked, "And it seems my patient is awake. If everyone can clear themselves from around the bed so I can give her a quick look over?"

After those that were standing had shuffled off to the unoccupied side of the room, the doctor quickly took a look at the medical chart in his hands, then put it down on a nearby table. Stepping over to Dawn's side, he smiled reassuringly, and said in a light conversational tone, "Hello, there, Ms. Summers. I have a question for you: do you want me to keep referring to you as I have, or as Dawn?"

Opening her eyes a little wider, the young Slayer looked at the doctor, before mumbling, "Dawn, please."

"Great! Now, Dawn, could you open your eyes all the way? I need to shine my light in them to test their reactions. I know you won't really like it, but it's got to be done."

Groaning a little, Dawn opened her eyes fully, then tried to squint at the same time. Chuckling, Dr. Rubedo took out a penlight, bent closer to his patient's face, and began moving the now lit light between her eyes. After a minute, he put the light away, then raised his hand with three fingers up before her eyes and asked how many fingers she saw. The answer given was correct, which pleased the doctor. He studied Dawn's face for a moment with a frown, before reaching forward to carefully turn the girl's face from side to side, allowing the teenager to close her eyes again in the process. He then prodded the lump on the side of her head as gently-yet-firmly as he could. The young Slayer couldn't suppress a wince at that.

Making one of those doctor-type hums that could mean either good _or_ bad news, he stood back up, and said, "Well, Dawn, it looks like your concussion is much better than when it was last checked on, and that bump on your head should be gone in two days at most. Your bruises are also healing at a phenomenal rate, and should not even be evident by tomorrow morning, from what I can tell."

Methos watched out of the corner of his eye as Buffy shifted with sudden unease, while Giles pulled off his glasses and polished them, muttering softly, "Oh, dear," as Watcher and Slayer realized something that he had already understood before he even left his hotel today:

An injured Slayer was being checked over by a professional doctor...and they were going to have to do damage control. Near the back of the room, he could see Angel was tense, and was ready to do whatever needed to be done, having come to that conclusion himself.

The doctor was still talking, as he said, "Now, normally, if I see injuries as extensive as yours were when you came in, I would have ordered two-to-three days' hospital stay as well as recommending you or your guardians to file a police report. But considering how fast you are healing, I think something else should be done instead. Don't you agree?"

By this time Dr. Rubedo had turned from Dawn, who bore a distinct impression of a deer caught in the light of an oncoming car, to gaze steadily at Buffy with one eyebrow raised.

For a moment, silence, then the eldest Slayer said in a voice that was slightly higher pitched than normal, "Well, we Summers' tend to heal a little faster than normal."

Again, the doctor hummed as he crossed his arms in front of himself.

At that, Buffy's eyes widened, and she said hurriedly, "Ok, a _lot_ faster than normal."

The other eyebrow joined the first.

With a barely heard whimper, the Slayer turned to Giles with an expression that clearly screamed: _help me!_

Giles cleared his throat as he carefully put his glasses back on and just as he began to stutter out an excuse, stopped. This caused Buffy to turn back to the doctor, and stare with a start. Methos suppressed a laugh, having caught on to what was happening halfway through the excuses.

A faint, knowing smile now resided on Dr. Rubedo's face as he held out one hand in a gesture to stop the conversation further. He said, "Peace, Mrs. Summers, and you as well, sirs. I am aware of your group and what you do for this town. I will not reveal your secrets, nor draw unwanted attention to them."

Wearing a particularly dumbfounded expression, Buffy gawked, before getting out, "Wha—?"

The doctor grinned, then explained, "My son was in your year, Mrs. Summers. Also, I come from a long line of Alchemists. I decided to become a doctor after I witnessed my father lose his eyesight in an experiment to fine tune a step in the Alchemy process. My skills have come in handy with my family's inevitable injuries since then."

"Oh," came Buffy's bewildered response to that. "Okay."

Nodding, Dr. Rubedo then said in a more serious tone, "Now that we've got that out of the way, why don't I explain what we're going to do here so I can let you be? No doubt you have things you need to talk about."

"Sounds good," Angel replied from where he was now leaning casually against the sink counter.

"Wonderful," the doctor stated, pleased, before grabbing Dawn's medical chart, and quickly began writing. In a professional tone, he then said, "Due to Dawn's rate of healing I'll be able to release her from here at noon." He paused in his writing, and pointed his pen at his patient, as he said in a stern tone of voice, _"But_, I will only do this if you promise me that you'll do no heavy physical activity for the rest of today and all of tomorrow. That wrist needs to finish healing before you can do anything with it, or it'll have to be reset later with you actually wearing a cast for a week and not a splint for a few days, Miss."

Methos watched as the young Slayer nodded vigorously in obvious understanding and agreement. No doubt she didn't want to go through re-breaking her wrist again, nor wearing a restrictive cast which could not be easily removed. He saw as a moment later she stilled suddenly, looking very queasy. He wouldn't be surprised if her concussion hadn't decided to remind her of its presence once more.

It looked like Dr. Rubedo had thought the same thing as he commented, "It seems as though you need a bit of medicine for that head of yours. Let me just say a last few things, and I'll take care of that for you."

As the teenager smiled wanly in thanks, the doctor turned to Buffy, and said, "I am aware that Child Services was called in by one of the nurses when Dawn was brought in. I'm going to do what I can to get them to leave you alone. I'll also do the same for the police. As for when Dawn is released from here, I'll come by shortly before noon and run one last exam on her to see how she's healing, and then she'll be free to go. I won't even ask for a follow-up visit, as I don't think it'll be necessary."

The relief and gratitude on Buffy's face was self-evident as she said, "That's fantastic. Thank you!"

Dr. Rubedo nodded in understanding before walking out of the room. He came back only a moment later with a filled syringe. Walking over to Dawn's IV stand, he quickly injected the medicine in the appropriate place along the tubing. Capping the now empty syringe and placing it in the hazardous waste container, he said, "Alright, Dawn, that pain killer will stop the pain you're feeling, but won't put you to sleep. If you start feeling discomfort again, use the call button to get the nurse."

After Dawn mumbled her understanding while raising the head of her bed to be more comfortable, the doctor turned to the others in the room while she did this and held out his hand to shake their hands. Once that was done, he bid those there farewell, and left the room, closing the door as he did so.

Silence settled on the group for a time, then Buffy sighed heavily as she sat down on the unoccupied bed. The silence stretched further before the elder Slayer asked as she gazed wearily at her daughter, "Why, Dawn? Why did you go out there without someone with you when you _know_ there's some super strong demon wandering around right now?"

"_What?"_ was Spike's shocked exclamation to Buffy's words as he stood up from the seat he had been sitting in since their arrival, giving Dawn no chance to respond. "What the 'ell are you talking about? You know what got her already?"

Dawn scowled at Buffy, and pointed with her uninjured hand to the chipped vampire, and stated angrily, _"That_ is why I was out there. Spike doesn't know _anything_ of what's been going on since Quentin's arrival here three days ago. _Someone_ needed to tell him, and I didn't see _anyone_ even _thinking_ about telling him!"

An uncomfortable silence descended as Angel, Buffy and Giles looked at each other, clearly at a loss for words. But, even though they might have no notion of what to say, another didn't.

"What demon," Spike growled out. "Do you even know what it is?"

"No," Giles admitted, "at least not yet. Our information has been fairly limited. We are hoping that what Dawn can tell us will allow us to identify it."

"Can you even assume it's the same demon as the one you're looking for," the vampire asked. "This is the 'ellmouth. You know what can be drawn to it."

"Spike," Dawn said quietly, drawing everyone's attention to her, "it's the same. It matched what we knew from two other attacks before this one."

"What attacks," Spike asked tautly. "I would've heard about it if it were demon-related."

"That's the thing, though," Dawn said, "the attacks were done to humans, by someone who looks human. If it weren't for her strength, speed, and some weird coloring, she could pass for human with no problem. Also, the first attack looked like gang in-fighting gone wrong, while the other seemed to be Tara having a relapse."

"Red's girl was hurt," the vampire asked, his shock evident. He scowled and cursed at Dawn's affirmative nod.

When nothing further was said, Angel asked Dawn to describe the demon for him, a sketchpad and pencil ready. While father and daughter were doing that, Buffy and Giles brought Spike up to speed, with Methos giving input from time to time. The four had just gotten around to speculating on what type of demon or part-demon it could be from what they currently knew when Dawn yelped in shock.

Everyone's attention quickly returned to the teenager, who sat in her bed staring in fascinated awe at the paper in her hand.

"I'd forgotten how good you were," was all the girl said.

When it looked like Dawn would just continue to gaze at what was in her hand, Buffy cleared her throat pointedly. Startled, the teenager looked at the group, blushed, and extended the paper towards them. Buffy took the paper, glanced at it, then passed it to Giles, who in turn gave it to Spike. After raising an eyebrow in appreciation, the vampire gave it to Methos. The ancient Immortal looked at it, and felt a shock ripple through him.

Even if the eyes and some of the facial features were somewhat different, he would recognize that face anywhere. Many years of close and intimate living would do that.

_Cassandra._

But how could this be possible? She wasn't a demon, nor could an Immortal _become_ a demon. He could not figure it out. So lost did he become in thought, that Methos was barely aware of the conversation going on around him as he absently handed the picture back to Buffy.

"So, anything you can tell us about this demon that we don't know already, Dawn," Buffy asked as she took the drawing back, unaware of her fellow Immortal's distracted state.

"Well," Dawn said after a moment of contemplation as she chewed on her lower lip, "the demon doesn't have blue hair. It's actually brown with blue streaks in it...and blue splotches on the skin. It was really weird."

"What about those eyes, Bit," Spike inquired. "They don't look normal in the drawing."

Dawn's expression grew somewhat excited, as she answered, "Oh, yeah! Those were freaky. They were bright blue."

"Glowing, or just bright," asked Giles for clarification.

"Bright," was the answer, "kinda like someone threw acid on them, or something. There was no way they could be human eyes."

"Was there anything you could pick up about its abilities, Dawn," Angel asked.

Silence fell, before the young Slayer said slowly, "Yeah." She looked seriously at Giles, Buffy and Angel, with a brief glance at the distracted Methos, then said, "Apparently she can sense Immortals...even those not Immortal yet." The girl's pointed look told the three of them that she knew what they had kept hidden from her, and that she wasn't pleased.

"Crap," was all that Buffy said in response, her voice sort of numb.

This made Dawn scowl darkly, before she said with a bit of heat in her voice, "Something you wanna tell me, _Mom_? You know I hate secrets..._especially_ secrets that're about me!"

"Why should I say it when you seem to already know," was Buffy's flippant-yet-bitter response.

"You know," Dawn began with a cynical air as she crossed her arms in front of her, wincing when she accidentally jarred her broken wrist, "for a secret, this was a pretty lousy one. I'd already been wondering if I would be Immortal someday even before the demon told me."

The elder Slayer threw up her arms at this and began to stalk out of the room when her younger counterpart barked out infuriated, "Don't you dare walk out on me!"

Buffy whirled around to face her daughter, and said angrily, "What do you want me to say, huh? I wanted you to have as much of a normal life as possible! I didn't want you to take risks without thinking there'd be no consequence. I don't want you to have to deal with what I have to deal with now that I'm Immortal, on top of being a Slayer!"

"Well, maybe if you _told_ me this stuff before hand, I wouldn't have to drag it out of you," Dawn exclaimed. "Or even worse: learn about it when it's too late! What do you think would've happened to me if that demon had killed me, and I didn't know about being Immortal? Heck! What would have happened if I had jumped through that portal after all? Do you honestly want to play this game with me?"

An impenetrable silence descended with Dawn glaring furiously for all she was worth, while Buffy kept opening and closing her mouth, stunned, clearly trying to find something to say. It was into this that Spike spoke, saying, "Enough, you two. We've got bigger things to worry about right now." He received a glare from both for this, which he ignored. "Dawn, was there anything else about this demon you can tell us? Perhaps what it's after? I recall hearing that this demon's looking for something, but not what that something is or even if it's a who. Do you know?"

Dawn's glare became contemplative as she looked through her memories of her encounter with the demon. After a minute, she looked up and around at everyone, her gaze landing a moment longer than the others on the still distracted ancient Immortal, before saying as she looked at Spike, "Yeah, she's after someone named Methos. I don't know much more than that. When she realized I didn't know anything about this person, she just left...after giving me my concussion, I'm thinking."

"Sounds about right," Spike muttered, clearly recalling how he found Dawn last night.

With a sigh, Buffy said as she gathered up her purse while glancing at Angel, who was soon standing beside her, "Then it seems we've got some research to do. We need to find out what this demon is, and hopefully figure out what it—_she_ wants with this person, and find this Methos before the demon does, too."

Methos looked up at this point, something having brought him out of his deep introspection, unsure of what had done so. He noticed that it seemed to be time to go as he saw Angel and Buffy leave after a quick goodbye to Dawn. Seeing Giles waiting for him at the door, he nodded to the young Slayer and vampire and left as well.

The Watcher and Immortal were outside the hospital before Giles said quietly to Methos, "Be careful, Adam. It seems this demon that Tara and Dawn encountered is looking for you."

Methos stopped in his tracks and stared at Giles, causing the other to stop as well. In a deliberately mild tone, the Immortal asked, "What are you saying?"

Giles looked over his glasses at Methos, and said seriously, "The demon's looking for you by your actual name, Adam." Having given his warning, he readjusted his glasses and cleared his throat, saying in a more normal tone, "I would suggest you contact your people, and see if they can help us with identifying this person. Good day."

Methos remained where he was as he uneasily watched the Watcher go to his car and soon after leave the parking lot. Slowly going to his own car, the Immortal considered what he needed to do.

_I need to get in touch with Joe. Something's seriously wrong with Cassandra. He should be able to give me the info I need, or at least a start on understanding what's happening._

He got into his car, and began driving back to his hotel.

_If I should encounter her in this town, I'm not going to hold back. I'm tired of her games. We're going to end this, one way or another, next time we see each other._

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Hey, Brat, how ya feeling?"

Dawn looked up from the demonology book she was reading to glance in irritation at Faith as the middle Slayer took a seat beside her at the table she sat at. Seeing the honest concern on the older girl's face that belied the flippant question, the teenager's emotions changed to resigned exasperation as she rolled her eyes and looked around the Magic Box to see if anyone else was in hearing range.

Satisfied that no one was, the younger Slayer answered dryly, "Wishing everyone would quit asking that."

Faith chuckled as she leaned back in her seat, before saying half-seriously, "Better that than no one caring and actively making it worse."

The two Slayers shared a knowing and understanding look between them with that comment, asking and receiving forgiveness for an act that really didn't happen between them in the past—despite their memories of it happening. They then gazed over to the doorway between the shop and training room to see Buffy and Angel come out looking ruffled, with Giles following after as he commented about their techniques from the training session the supernatural couple had just done. It wasn't long before said couple sat with Dawn and Faith at the table.

Giles joined the group a moment later with even more demonology books to add to the slowly growing pile on the table, and asked, "Dawn, have you recalled anything else about this demon that you have yet to tell us?"

Dawn nodded once, then answered, "Yeah. I didn't remember until just a short while ago, but remember when we were talking about the demon's eyes? Well, I remember now that the eyes kept changing from that weird blue color to gray and back. The strange thing is that with the eye-switching, the personality changed too. I was completely freaking by the end of our encounter because of that." She was thoughtful for a moment, before adding, "Now that I think about it, it kinda reminds me of Ben and Glory, but not as extreme a physical change."

Buffy looked like she was ready to begin freaking out at that comment, while Giles ruminated out loud, "Perhaps possession? That would narrow our choices of demon down dramatically, but I do not recall a demon with that ability having the qualities we know this demon of having."

"Oh, crap," Dawn suddenly said, a look of horror on her face from something she had just recalled. Sitting up straighter in her seat, she explained what she had just realized, saying, "I remember now that I confronted the demon about being a demon when it was saying it was Immortal instead, when it switched personalities, and claimed to be an Old One reborn."

Hyperventilating, Buffy exclaimed, "Oh, god! How can you forget something like _that_?"

Suddenly on the defensive, the younger Slayer stated, "I had a concussion, okay? I don't quite have everything in order about what happened, and some things are still too hazy for me to remember right! _Also_, I wasn't really allowed the time to process that statement after it was made. So don't be on your high horse about it, _okay_."

Before the two could fall into another squabble between themselves, a throat cleared pointedly in front of them. Almost to a person the group of five turned to look in the direction of the sound to find Quentin and a stranger of roughly equal proportions to Angel, though slimmer and longer haired, standing by one of the shelves near the table.

"Oh great," Faith said sarcastically, "it's the big head, and he's brought a friend."

The middle Slayer received a glare for her comment while Dawn smothered a laugh; even Buffy looked half amused, a vindictive gleam in her eye as she did so. Angel was just blank-faced with a hard look in his eyes.

Giles was cleaning his glasses, his own expression wary as he asked, "What brings you by, Quentin, and who is this?"

The head Watcher glowered for a moment longer at the reformed Slayer before answering Giles by saying, "I find it curious that Ms. Summers believes that she has encountered an Old One, as I have with me one of the few true experts on such creatures." He gestured to the man beside him. "This is the Guardian of the Deeper Well, Drogyn."

"The Battlebrand," Giles stuttered out in shock, just as Angel said as he stood and held out his hand, "It's been a long time, Drogyn. I didn't really expect to ever see you again when I left Europe."

Drogyn studied the souled vampire for a bit, then pale blue eyes met dark brown, before the offered hand and forearm were gripped in a warrior's handclasp. With a wry smile, the Guardian replied, "Nor I you, my friend. How is it that you have become companion to a Slayer? I was surprised to hear of it from Mr. Travers."

Dawn watched interestedly as Angel ran a hand through his hair, a wry smile on his face as he answered, "A rather badly dressed demon with an attitude pointed me in the right direction, you could say. Things fell into place after that...as well as a few things that shouldn't have, but it all worked out in the end."

"That's one way of putting it," Buffy muttered as she rubbed her neck a little more firmly, before stilling the motion, her eyes narrowing. She dropped her hand to rest it near where she kept her sword on her, and stated as she stared intently at Drogyn, "You're Immortal."

The Guardian gazed quietly at the eldest Slayer for a moment, then inclined his head as he answered, "I am."

"Huh," was all Buffy could say to that, before turning to Angel, and asking, "Was that why you weren't surprised that I was Immortal, because you knew about Immortals through this guy?"

Angel nodded.

"This is all very well and good to know," Travers interrupted in a tone of voice that said that he could actually care less, before concluding in frustration, "but it does not explain Drogyn's presence here...a thing which he has yet to fully explain to _me_."

Irritation now in his voice, Drogyn replied, "That is because what I have come here for is not your concern, but that of the Champions within this city."

Standing straight with an arrogance that all could see, Quentin declared imperiously, "What concerns them, matters to me."

The derisive laughter coming suddenly from the three Slayers showed the truth of that statement.

Buffy was the first to regain control of herself, as she said scornfully, "The day you actually _care_ about what we _do_, and not what we _aren't_ doing that _**you**__ wanted_ us to do, will probably be after the world ends...and I _really_ doubt even then!"

Quentin glowered, before saying in a very affronted tone of voice, "I will not stand here, and listen to your accusations! I am Head of the Watchers Council, and deserve far more respect than you've shown me since my arrival in this pathetic little town." He turned to Giles. "Rupert, as of now, your pay is halved. You clearly have no control over your Slayers, and until you do, your pay grade will reflect that."

With those words and a scornful gaze sent to all there, Quentin Travers left the Magic Box.

In the incredulous silence that fell after the Watcher left, Buffy muttered darkly, "Bastard."

Giles sighed tiredly, then commented, "It is a good thing, then, that this shop pays me better than my Watchers' salary ever did."

"Really?" Buffy said, her expression curious, yet confused. "Considering the small amount of customers we get in here, I thought it'd be the opposite."

The resident Watcher cleared his throat uncomfortably while taking off his glasses to clean them, before explaining, "Yes, well, it started that way. Anya and Willow, with Dawn's help, is what made the difference. They've turned the shop into a rather productive, ah, online business, I believe they call it."

Faith's eyebrows rose as she asked, _"Your_ using a computer?"

Giles shook his head, before correcting, "No. Anya and Willow do that. I merely give the final word on purchases and sales."

"Interesting," Angel commented from where he stood by Drogyn, "but perhaps we should speak of more serious matters?" He turned to the man beside him, saying, "I know you don't like questions, but..."

Drogyn raised a hand in a stopping gesture, his expression understanding, as he said, "You wish to know my purpose here, and why I seek the Champions here in this city. That is understandable, and I will explain."

The Guardian moved away from Angel and towards the table, pulling a satchel in front of him that he had had at his side. From this bag, he carefully pulled out ancient looking scrolls. Placing those in the table, he began his explanation.

"From my understanding, you have dealt with an Old One before. Therefore, I will just give you an overview of what you need to know right now, and give further details later." He nodded towards Dawn as he said, "According to the young lady here," said lady supplied her name, "Dawn, she has already encountered the one I am here to speak to you about."

Drogyn settled into an empty seat beside Faith, before saying further, "First, I will give you its name: Illyria, the god-king of the primordium, the eldest and greatest of the Old Ones. Its power and influence on our world was so great, that it is felt even now, millions of years after its physical death. It even still has followers in this day and age that worship it."

"What do you mean by physical death," Buffy asked, her expression thoughtful-yet-confused. "And how'd it come back? The last Old One we dealt with isn't anything like this one's being described."

A scowl briefly flickered across the Guardian's face, before he answered, "Only an Old One can truly kill an Old One, otherwise it is just the body that is destroyed. Illyria's spirit was eventually captured by its own acolytes. We are unsure what promises were made to accomplish this."

"I've got a question," Faith stated as she turned in her seat to more fully face Drogyn. At his wary nod, she asked, "How'd this demon get reborn, and how do we stop it?"

Resignation along with irritation beginning to show, Drogyn said, "We don't know the exact details, but some things are known. For an Old One to be reborn, the demon's essence must somehow be infused into a host body. The spirit will then devour the soul of its host, until all that remains is the host's body. As for how to kill it, each one is different."

"Meaning you don't know," Buffy said bluntly.

"Correct."

"As the Guardian of the Deeper Well, should you not have known that this Old One had escaped," Giles inquired.

Angel winced as Drogyn's eyes snapped over to the Watcher. Barely controlled anger was evident as he answered curtly, "My charges are not few! Illyria's sarcophagus was not stolen, we would have noticed that immediately; nor was it taken out of the Deeper Well, as I would have to have approved such a move. Instead, it simply disappeared. We only realized it was gone, and the demon reborn only a few days ago. The moment we knew where it had gone, I came."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"_Damn, Old Man, when you call them, you call them! The Field Watchers are going nuts trying to figure this one out."_

Methos lounged against the headboard on his bed in the hotel he was staying at, listening to his friend, confidant and sometimes co-conspirator on his cell phone.

"What did they find," the ancient Immortal asked.

"_Quite a bit...and none of it good,"_ Joe Dawson admitted. _"From what they have been able to gather, she's been gone from her grove about one to two days. There was a deep indent just outside of her house, like there was something heavy there, but no tracks to explain how something sarcophagus-sized got there or was taken away. The grass was just crushed and still green under whatever it was, so it hadn't been there long. They did find traces of strangely colored sand in that spot that they're analyzing to see if it'll help them figure this mess out. Inside was even stranger, though. There was no evidence of a struggle to suggest a kidnapping, but __**something**__ had happened._

"_It looks like Cassandra was fixing some herbal remedy, dropped it, and then fell in it. Water was everywhere. They found the remains of her sword by her bed. The blade was completely shattered, the hilt half-buried in the wall, and they're not sure how __**that**__ happened either. In amongst the pieces they found blood and vomit residue that hadn't been mopped up completely. The thing that's really making them wonder what the hell happened there is that they found something in the wall by the bed that was a __**very**__ detailed indent of a head, just above where the sword was. You could see where the eyes, mouth and nose were in it. They sent me a picture, so I can show you if you want. They also did a comparison to Cassandra's head with that indent, and it matched up. Mind telling me what's going on?"_

Methos roughly rubbed his face before sighing. In a slightly frustrated tone, he answered, "Yeah, but I warn you: this can't get back to the Watchers until the matter is dealt with or at all."

There was a long pause, then, _"Tell me."_

"I believe Cassandra's been possessed by a rather strong demon, and seems determined at the same time to finish what she started with me...which points to a symbiotic possession. At least that's what I've come up with."

"_WHAT?"_

The Immortal chuckled darkly in response, before continuing, "I know. I haven't actually seen her, but Dawn did. Angel drew a picture of who she saw, and I recognized that it was Cassandra. She looked different in some aspects, though. That's really why I wanted you to have someone look in on her last known location to confirm if it was her and not merely someone who looked like her. From what you've told me, it sounds like it _is_ her."

"_Damn. So, what're you going to do now?"_

Methos' expression turned cold as he said, "I'm finishing this. If she wants to lose her head over something that had happened in the ancient past, so be it. She's made her grave."

"_What if it's this demon that's making her look for you?"_

Glaring at his shoes, Methos stated with a hard edge in his voice, "If so, I'll deal with it."

In the silence that followed, Methos heard the muted sounds of a busy bar become louder, followed by someone talking indistinctly, yet urgently. Joe gave an affirmative response to what had been said, and then said to Methos, a trace of worry hidden in his voice, _"Look, I need to get going, and make an appearance to keep things settled here. You do what you need to do, you always have. Just promise to keep me updated, okay? And if you __**do**__ off her, don't tell me! I want plausible deniability if Mac learns she's dead."_

A wry smile touched the Immortal's lips, and lit his eyes briefly with a dark humor, before he answered, "Sure, Joe."

The Watcher of Immortals chuckled humorlessly, then said, _"Bye, Old Man. Don't __**you**__ loose your head, either!"_

Methos shook said head ruefully as he heard the line disconnect; knowing that despite his friend's flippant tone, Joe would practically be biting his nails in worry until this whole mess was over with. Just as he was closing his cell phone, and wondering what to do now, his hotel door suddenly flew into the room and crashed into the wall opposite the doorway; breaking said projectile into two pieces, and placing a crack in the wall when it did so.

Letting over five thousand years of instinct take over, the Immortal rolled away from the entry and off his bed, landed on the floor, and grabbed his sword from under the bed in one smooth motion, dropping his cell phone in the process. Peeking over the edge of said bed to see who had come calling, he saw Cassandra in all her strangely blue glory standing just outside the doorway, arm extended stiffly in front of her from her having slammed her hand into the door just a moment before.

The ancient Immortal's gut twisted as he felt the vile _wrongness_ in Cassandra's Quickening, and knew his assumption of possession was correct. The question remained, though, of just how deeply that possession went.

The possessed Immortal turned her head towards Methos, inhuman acid blue eyes momentarily pinning him in place, as some instinctive memory that he could not recall recognized what he was seeing...even if he could not consciously understand it. A shiver went down his spine as he stood, sword tightly gripped and half-raised.

"Cassandra," he acknowledged.

The woman tilted her head to one side, stepped into the room, and said coldly, "The Immortal cannot answer you right now." The demon's eyes raked over Methos' body, clearly evaluating him, before declaring, "You appear to be the one I seek."

Raising his sword just a little bit more, Methos asked, "How can you be sure, and why would you seek for whom you seek?"

The demon's expression hardened at his words, clearly not pleased, before moving with sudden speed towards him. Methos immediately swung his sword with all his might, striking the demon's neck as she stopped in front of him.

The sword's blade bowed and then burst apart.

Partly spinning around from the force of his suddenly unchecked momentum, hilt flying from his hand, Methos barely had time to register his sword's breaking before he found himself being yanked backwards and then flying through the air sideways. He crashed head first through the door of the bathroom and landed in a stunned pile on the tiled floor.

Before he could right himself, let alone clear the stars in his vision, Methos was hoisted to his unsteady feet by his shirtfront. Gripping the hand holding him in place, Methos, blinking his eyes to clear them, suddenly realized he was gazing down into the demon's eyes. He attempted to jerk back, but found himself unable to do so.

The woman breathed in, her eyes now halfway closed. Lazily gazing up at him, she said, "You are the one I seek. Your scent confirms it, Methos."

She released him abruptly, causing him to rock back on his feet as she turned around and walked towards the center of the room. Catching himself on the doorframe, Methos warily watched her, as he asked in hopes of stalling for time to find a way out of this mess, "Why were you looking for me?"

"The Immortal's memories concerning you intrigued me," the demon admitted, turning to face him. "I decided to make you my Qwa'ha Xahn."

Methos' mind blanked out for a moment as he heard within his mind words spoken in a ritualistic and fervent tone using his voice, but which he had no recollection of ever saying.

"_I will be your priest, your servant, and your guide upon your return to this world. __**I am your Qwa'ha Xahn!**__"_

He came back to himself with a shudder, to find the demon once more in front of him, her hand running over his chest, her expression curious. He stood frozen, heart pounding.

With a hint of pleased surprise in her voice, the woman said, "It would seem, Immortal, that you are already my Qwa'ha Xahn. My writings reside within your body, though they are not visible. Only my priests are allowed to do so."

"Who _are_ you," Methos choked out, disbelief of what was happening in his wide eyes.

The demon tilted her head in an oddly bird-like fashion, before saying with slowly growing anger, "You do not know? You who possess _my_ scriptures within your body? I am Illyria, god-king of the primordium! I was and _am_ the Shaper of All Things! Before me, none knew what power truly was. Before me, none knew how to rule. It was through me, that the peoples of this world began to unite into nations."

Methos' look of incomprehension caused Illyria's expression to harden as she hissed out, "How is it, you are my Qwa'ha Xahn if you have no knowledge of me? Your ignorance disgusts me!" The demon's expression cooled as she stated, "It matters not. You will serve me willingly or unwillingly"

At those words, a strange feeling of lassitude rushed through Methos. As he felt this, Illyria spoke, saying commandingly with an undercurrent of power in her words, _**"I am your god. You shall do all that I say, Qwa'ha Xahn."**_

A part of the ancient Immortal that was not under the demon's spell balked at what was spoken, refusing to comply. Methos grabbed a hold of that emotion grimly, not caring that it originated from a dark part of his past, and brought it to the fore. Immediately, pain unlike anything he'd ever felt before in his life assaulted him. He could only think one thing when this happened.

_This is worse than absorbing two Quickenings at once!_

Methos' whole body shuddered as he fought the god-king's command, his very essence seeming to twist and writhe within him in protest. Putting all his will and strength of spirit against the powered command, he swayed as he felt the compulsion shatter abruptly.

Gripping the bathroom doorway once again to stay upright, he drew breath in deeply, then stood up straight, tall and proud. Glaring with barely restrained fury, he growled out, _"I bow to no one!"_

Once more, her head tilted to the side, as though gazing at an unknown type of bug, the demon said simply, "Pity," before grabbing Methos' shirtfront and slamming him onto the bedroom floor on his back. Placing a foot firmly over the gasping Immortal's chest, she leaned forward, and said matter-of-factly, "Your insolence grows irritating. You _will_ serve me."

Remaining where she was, Illyria turned her face to gaze at the cell phone that was suddenly ringing on the floor by the bed. When it stopped ringing, she glanced upward, and watched as the air stretched and opened into a portal. Through the portal, the inside of a semi-spacious room that was dimly lit could be seen.

Reaching down, Illyria easily yanked Methos to his feet, and gazed at him. In a cold tone, she said, "We are going to my temple. Once there, you will understand the futility of not serving me."

With those words, the demon pulled the Immortal through the portal with her, just as his cell phone began to ring again. As the portal closed, the phone stopped ringing, before beeping a few times a moment later.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Buffy walked the streets of Sunnydale, worry in her heart. She had been making the various rounds to those that needed to know what was currently going on that didn't know yet, meaning that Spike, Willow and Tara now knew what it was that they were facing. All that remained was to tell Adam. She had tried to reach him by phone, but he had uncharacteristically not answered. She had tried three separate times, before making the decision to go see him and find out what was going on.

As she neared the hotel her Immortal teacher was staying at, her gut instinct began warning her that something was very wrong. Hearing the sirens in the distance coming closer, she began to run.

Seeing the manager of the hotel waiting anxiously in the parking lot for the police, Buffy stealthily moved towards the hotel building, and made her way to the room that had no door when it should. Reaching Adam's room, knowing that she had perhaps a minute before she had to be gone, she slipped inside and stopped, heart clenching in fear.

"Oh, no," was all Buffy could say in horrified disbelief as she gazed about the room.

There were obvious signs of struggle everywhere. Walls cracked, doors busted off hinges, and the worst: Adam's sword scattered in pieces all over the floor. Drawing in a deep breath to steady herself, she quickly searched the room for any of her teacher's more personal and private items.

Gathering Adam's coat, laptop and cell phone, Buffy gave one final mournful-yet-worried glance at the broken sword and fled the premises.

* * *

**Next Part:** Heheh! The gang learns things they didn't know before, Illyria is Not Happy, and people begin wondering what the heck they're doing.  
**Part Finished:** 7/11/10

**A/N2:** Is anyone still actually reading this? Let me know if you are, and what you think of the story so far! Constructive criticism is always appreciated as well, as it helps me become a better writer.


End file.
